Spring Comes Late to Colorado
by KittenKin
Summary: A modern day AU in which country!Kurogane and city!Fai are trapped by a snowstorm in a cabin, along with a mysterious baby. A "Harlequin Heartwarming" style romance with ridiculous amounts of infant adorableness. Rated T for m/m, Kurogane's potty mouth and some sad stories.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** Written for the "Harlequin Romance" challenge at the KuroFai community on Dreamwidth, where an author takes an actual Harlequin romance story summary as inspiration for a KuroFai fanfic. Modified from original Harlequin Romance summary:

_Discovering an abandoned baby in the backseat of a taxi was not on hotelier Fai Fluorite's agenda. Luckily, a stunning stranger comes to his aid—and piques his interest. But before Child Services can arrive, a snowstorm strands the trio in Fai's luxurious Colorado cabin._

_Youou Kurogane wants to resist Fai's advances, but Fai's care and concern for him and the baby soon have him melting. As the snow falls and the heat sizzles, it's not long before Kurogane's sleeping in Fai's bed. And he finds himself wondering if their temporary arrangement could have permanent effects..._

* * *

Feathery clumps of ice crystals fell slow and soft over Mercy Hospital, building up a thick white blanket to cover the dark, slushy mess that the previous night's snowfall had been trampled into. Visiting hours were not yet over but the temporary population of the hotel was at a low ebb, and the holidays were long enough past that the emergency room was no longer kept busy and holding tenaciously on to the faint aroma of drunken regrets at all hours. Instead of fist fights and fender benders keeping the doors open almost as often as they were closed, now there were only the usual winter's load of coughs and fevers to occupy the small medical center. The place was quiet but filled with a low hum of steady activity like a somnolent cat purring contentedly away, just waiting to be disturbed.

Headlights pierced the gloom that heavy clouds cast across the area even at midday, chasing wild shadows across the building as a taxi cab quickly made its way through the roundabout and stopped in front of the emergency room doors. A security guard detached himself from his coffee and desk, making his way outside with an awkward mix of slowness due to weight and haste due to curiosity. Mercy was small as far as hospitals went, though favored by locals for its friendly staff, and it was rare to see a taxi drop someone off.

"Got an out of towner?" the guard asked affably as the cab driver hurriedly got out and began squeaking through the thin layer of new snow to the rear passenger side. The cabbie looked worried and the guard tipped his hat back a bit as he tried to peer into the interior of the vehicle. "We all right in there?"

"I'm right enough, but my fare's messed up," the cab driver replied, pulling open the door. "Dunno if she got a bug or bad drugs or what, but she hasn't made a peep since falling in."

"Oh hell," the portly guard murmured as the cabbie's increasingly louder calls of "hey Miss" went unanswered. The girl slumped inside was little more than a pale, peaked face floating in the darkness. The dimness of the ill-lit vehicle and her dark, thick clothes - woolen cap, heavy coat and bedraggled boots - swathed all other features in shadows and shapelessness. A wheelchair was fetched and then the two men both moved to maneuver the light - and disturbingly limp - form out of the car.

"Oh _hell_." Both their hands came away wet and glimmering darkly in the yellow glare of the outdoor lights, and the cab driver grimaced and wiped his hands on his jacket while the other man began wheeling the girl into the ER. "Why didn't you take her to General?" the guard asked, referring to the larger, much more modern hospital with its renowned surgical teams.

"I didn't know she was hurt," the cabbie protested. "She just said 'Mercy' so here I am."

The automatic doors opened up, buffeting the men and their charge with warm air tainted with antiseptic and cleaning solution and then closing with a _whoosh_ behind them. The unconscious young woman was soon the center of attention, bringing the quiet waiting room to life and then disappearing through another set of doors, but this time lying flat on a gurney wheeled briskly by a pair of business-like nurses in colorful scrubs. There was a bit of an awkward shuffle in the waiting room then, ending with the security guard mumbling something about getting the now blood-soaked wheelchair cleaned up and wandering off with it, leaving the taxi driver torn between kind-heartedly worrying over his passenger and pragmatically - and none too hopefully - calculating his chances of eventually collecting his fare.

The cabbie lingered a while, folding up his bloodied jacket and giving his hands a thorough going-over with some disinfecting gel and tissues, but no one made a reappearance and the clerk at the reception desk proved to be too uncertain or unimaginative to give him any ideas of how best to go about invoicing an unconscious unknown. Finally he settled for leaving his name and contact information with the clerk in the hopes that his fare would recover and turn out to be a responsible young lady of comfortable means who always honorably discharged her debts. With one last mournful sigh over his financial losses, the driver waved his way out and began shuffling through the snow to his cab.

The passenger door was still ajar, making the man grimace at both the disturbing stain just barely visible on the back seat and the realization that all the warm air had long escaped. His heater was an indifferent piece of equipment at best and he definitely didn't want to put his bloody jacket back on. Resigning himself to at least several miles of uncomfortable cold, the driver prepared to shut the car door when the sound of the hospital doors opening and a shout made him pause and turn back hopefully. Perhaps the girl had regained consciousness and had sent an orderly out with her wallet. It was unlikely, but not impossible, and the cab driver was the type of person who had never quite lost that childish habit of hoping for small grade miracles to offset life's many disappointments.

"Wait wait!" a man called out, hurrying out from the building, waving one gloved hand and carrying some bags with the other. "Can I share that cab with you?"

"You can have it all for yourself," the driver replied, cheering up instantly though his initial hopes were disappointed. His last fare would probably remain unpaid, but here was a new one to keep him from wasting gas just getting back into the city. As a bonus, the stranger looked quite healthy. "I'm the driver. Where d'ya wanna go?"

"Rather a long way, I'm afraid," his fare said with an apologetic laugh, white teeth glimmering in a fair face framed by pale hair and an even paler scarf. "I have a cabin just past Elk Ridge."

A street lamp lit the man from above, setting a nimbus about his blond head, and when the cab driver had done some quick math he could have blessed the man for an angel. It would be a long drive but still far better than cruising past restaurants and hotels with a hastily washed and unpleasantly damp cab, hoping to rack up enough quick trips around the city to make having gotten out of bed that morning worthwhile.

"It'll be a good four hundred at least," came the cautionary calculation, and then the cabbie smacked his hands together happily when the stranger didn't even bat his big baby-blues.

"That's fine," was the cheerfully unconcerned reply.

"Well get on in then and let's get you up into the mountain air!" He began to get out of the way so that his new - healthy and _wealthy_ - fare could get in but then jerked himself to a halt as he remembered the bloodstain. "Err, but wait wait, get in front. The heater doesn't work too well in the back and you'd be frozen before we got halfway there."

The truth was that the heater didn't work too well in the front either, but the stranger did not seem to be overly suspicious even when he hastily threw his folded up jacket over the stain in the back seat before scurrying out of the way so that the man could set his luggage down in the back. Doors were soon slammed shut and the engine revived, and the cab drove off in a flurry of snowflakes. In less than a minute, the area was silent again, and in twenty minutes even the tire tracks and blood spatters were hidden under a fresh layer of snow.

* * *

Elk Ridge was within driving distance of suburbia. The distance was not what anyone would call "easy" but to make up for all the blind curves and bright yellow signs warning of rockslides and avalanches and icy roads, the journey was more than picturesque. The road itself was modern and well kept enough, but to one side was sheer rock decorated with scrubby evergreen and snow, and to the other side was clear air, a dizzying drop and a breathtaking view. Drivers kept their eyes fixed religiously on the road, but any passenger with at least a smidgen of appreciation for nature and no traces of vertigo could easily spend the entire drive staring raptly out their window.

At dawn, the mountain range blushed pale peach and pink and nectarine, and fog blanketed the hills and valleys below as thickly as snow draped over the peaks above. Morning sun burned away the white mists and seared the skies into a stark, steely blue that was somehow all the more beautiful for its severity, or brought light only to backlight heavy clouds that seemed like a ponderous ocean rolling and roiling in slow motion. On clear days, the sunsets were like ripened versions of dawn, rich and ruddy, burning yet somehow dark. Night brought both velvety blue-blackness and the pure white of either snow or stars, but this was a sight unappreciated by most. The roads were frightening enough by day; few dared them at night.

There were those who made the long trip into town or the city often enough that they had all the twists and turns down the mountain practically memorized, but they were smart enough to be snug at home or safely at the bottom by the time darkness fell. It was not common fear that kept even the locals off the road at night, but common sense. The dark was a friend once you passed a certain elevation. Once the stars began outshining the street lamps and humanity humbly took its rightful place at nature's feet, there were no longer unnatural things - criminals and creepy crawlies - lurking in the shadows.

In the city, people carried weapons and chained shut their doors and feared for their lives despite all this. In the suburbs, parents checked under beds to settle their children's minds and left their porch lights on to settle their own. On the mountain, people walked with wolves and bears and were at ease with themselves so long as they remembered to bring their brains and balls when they left the house. Some carried guns, but it was primarily to provide for themselves, not protect.

Elk Ridge was a populous, bustling place perched cozily on the side of the mountain like a pretty little cluster of wildflowers growing out of a crack in the rocks. The population was nothing in comparison of the suburbs nestled in the shadow of the great mountain range, but still healthy enough to keep two grocery stores competing good-naturedly with each other. It was something like a resort town, but without ski lifts or snowmobile trails or indeed anything being rented at all except for cabins. The allure was not sport but solitude and the enjoyment of nature, and there were enough people interested in paying for these things to keep Elk Ridge thriving without ruining it at the same time with too many upgrades and modernizations.

The main road led to and ended at Elk Ridge, and multiple rougher roads led from the town to the rentals and privately owned cabins. A two-story building huddled at the crossroads of some of these glorified trails, almost blending in to its surroundings with its plain wooden walls and snow-capped roof. It was a general supply store, and offered a way to stay stocked without having to venture into the comparative bustle and brightness of Elk Ridge. The store seemed to exist out of sympathy to those who had escaped into these mountains for the sake of privacy and did not want to even be seen by too many, much less have to make friendly chat with them as they refreshed their supply of milk and bread.

The interior of the store was in keeping with this idea, offering a large selection of life's necessities though not in much variety. There were many items, but only one or two choices for each. If you wanted milk, you bought Colorado Creamery and you could pick between non-fat and definitely-a-lot-of-fat. There was not an option of percentages of fat. There were boxes of non-dairy milk for those not blessed with a natural tolerance to lactose, but it was plain and simple soy. There was no almond option, and certainly no colorful letters advertising strawberry or chocolate. There was just one brand of toilet paper, the cereal selection did not take up an entire aisle all by itself, and you could choose between just two types of toothpaste; regular and children's.

If you wanted your groceries in anything other than paper bags or your own two hands, you had to bring your own bags. Customers did not even have a choice as to who rang them up; the store was owned and operated, maintained and stocked, opened and closed all by one man. Youou Kurogane, twenty-four years young but carrying himself like he was much older.

He was not sociable, but then again, his customers were not the sort of people who threw Twitter-fits if they did not receive a satisfactory amount of deferential eye contact, polite chat and smiles. He kept his store well stocked and did not charge exorbitant prices. More was not asked of him, and that suited Kurogane just fine. Though eschewing small talk and treating his paying customers with the same brusqueness that he offered to idle passers-by, the storekeeper considered himself to have excellent customer service where it counted.

He did not run a late-night convenience store to ward off boredom with salties and sweets and questionable movies. He did not run a specialty boutique store to cater to whims and fancies. His official business was providing essentials and necessities, not luxuries and conveniences. The store had its regular opening and closing times, but he lived on the second floor of the wooden building and very rarely left the place for more than a couple of hours. No matter the ungodliness of the hour, he could be counted on to answer the door and would do his best to provide what was needed. That was his idea of customer service, and he was proud to offer it.

He had other reasons for staying, working and living here as well, but they were not ones that he was in the habit of sharing.

Up among the trees and rocks, the solitary man could have run his life and business however he wanted. His shop was necessary enough that his customers would have put up with higher prices and more inconvenience than he currently offered, but Kurogane stuck to his established routine with almost stubborn strictness. Life was quiet but the setting was beautiful, and the man seemed to feel no yearnings for excitement or variety. At the very least, he expressed no such yearnings, even if he did feel them.

Into this peaceful setting drove a vehicle one evening, disgorging a stranger who was on his way up to his private cabin. Such an occurrence was nothing too far out of the ordinary, but Kurogane would later look back and compare the event to the mailman dropping off a bomb.

* * *

The door opened and let in a flurry of fine snowflakes and a tall form bundled up in a ridiculously fluffy coat. Despite the thick fabric, the figure was long and lean and of such height that Kurogane put it in the "male" category as he eyed his potential customer. He almost revised his first opinion when the fur-lined hood shook back and revealed a face, pale and perfect, with big blue eyes bright even under the shadow of long platinum blond bangs. The wind and hood had tousled all that fine hair so that it wisped every which way and the person's nose and cheeks were rosy from the freezing temperatures, but somehow the stranger looked all the more beautiful for these imperfections. Thin lips parted in a half-smile and those brilliant eyes looked around the store as if at an unfamiliar realm, and Kurogane thought in the very back of his mind that it was as if a snow spirit had taken on human form and come curiously exploring.

And then the stranger opened his mouth.

"Hyuuu!" the blond trilled gaily, automatically raising an eyebrow on the shopkeeper. "It's _freezing_ outside!"

_No shit, Sherlock,_ Kurogane thought dryly, and stood up from where he'd been crouched, checking expiration dates on cough remedies and stocking thinned-out shelves from a little cart of neatly labeled cardboard boxes. His great height helped to make the simple movement eye-catching, and the newcomer homed in on him immediately. There was a minute pause as they met gazes, and then the blond surprised Kurogane by laying an I've-been-waiting-my-whole-life-to-meet-you kind of smile on him and stepping forward to greet him. Six foot five Kurogane, with broad shoulders, black hair that refused to lie down no matter how much hair product they were threatened with and rich brown eyes that looked wine-red in most lights, was used to first reactions to him being more on the cautious side. In the case of small children, sometimes tears were involved.

"Pleased to meet you," the stranger claimed, stopping at a polite distance and holding out one gloved hand, palm-up as if in supplication or gesturing to something. Kurogane was doubtful that it was in fact all that pleasant to meet him, but gave the offered hand a quick firm shake as they traded names.

"I'm Fai. I have a cabin a few miles up Valley Road."

"Kurogane," the shopkeeper replied succinctly, giving his last name only as was usual for him and mentally chalked up another mark against the stranger. He knew of the cabin and who owned it, as the staff who kept the place aired out, cleaned up and well stocked often stopped by his store to chat and shop. He also knew of the Fluorite chain of hotels and the rumors about the family that owned them. A family in name only, based in New York and famous for their high-priced luxury hotels and the ruthless, cutthroat business tactics that they used with everyone including - or perhaps _especially_ - each other.

Generations of wealth built on a foundation of greed. A golden palace on a hill of bones. Kurogane despised them on principle as representing the worst of what modern cities bred up. Smog and smoke instead of clean air, preservatives and chemicals instead of simple fare, fame and fortune instead of solid values; all of these things were calculated to breed twisted caricatures instead of honest men in Kurogane's opinion. Rumors of affairs and blackmail and even murder clung to the Fluorite name, though nothing ever came out clearly in the courtroom or the public eye. There were also whispers of bitter fallouts between the newest generation and the old. They couldn't even unite among themselves in the name of greed.

Fai flitted around like an out of season butterfly, peeping at this and that and chattering away brightly. The coat was peeled off as the warmth of the store seeped into his body, and the dark blue sweater and black slacks that were thus revealed were neat and clean and clung just enough to show off a trim form. He was no less attractive and graceful as when he first stepped into Kurogane's domain, but this only served to irritate the shopkeeper further. The more pleasing the exterior, the more disgusting the assumedly filthy interior became by contrast.

Kurogane was tall, dark, and Fai seemed to find him handsome or at least well worth the effort to strike up a conversation with, but all the blond's pleasantries, compliments and questions failed to draw much more than a word or two in reply. Sometimes all that was forthcoming was a grunt from behind a cardboard box as the store owner doggedly devoted himself to his wares. The light, lilting chatter ebbed, dimmed and finally trailed off entirely, and after a brief silence Kurogane noticed a pair of boots very near his left knee. He followed the legs upward and then frowned up at the slightly contrite, mostly puzzled face smiling down at him.

Bastard even looked pretty from this odd angle.

"Not much a conversationalist, are we," Fai commented quietly, most of the bubbles in his demeanor popped. "Am I bothering you?"

Bothering implied that the stranger was significant enough of a presence to affect Kurogane, and that wasn't something he was about to admit to.

"I'm all out of conversation," he replied flatly, with no trace of humor in his deep voice to make the statement into a proper joke. "I'm stocked up on everything else, though, so get what you came for and get out or else you'll get lost in the dark on your way up." This last little caution softened the "get out" and saved his response from being completely rude from start to finish. Barely. Fai seemed to admit it with plenty of good humor, smiling easily as if they were long-established friends and he knew that the other man was trying to be kind and funny and just failing spectacularly at it. It was obviously an act since they'd just met, and Kurogane looked upon the false front as proof that his prejudices were well-founded.

"I'm not actually here to shop," Fai admitted. "My cab driver had to stop and use your pay phone because his cellphone cut out mid-conversation, so I thought I'd come in and look around."

Kurogane was tempted to make any number of comments about how "looking around" could be accomplished silently or how the man should have stayed in the taxi cab instead of braving the wind just to track snow and dirt inside, but opening his mouth seemed like it would just trigger another avalanche of chatter so he stayed silent. Fai just got another non-committal grunt and then a look at Kurogane's back as the shopkeeper finished what he was doing and began wheeling away his supply cart without a word.

When he came back, Fai had moved further down an aisle toward the double-doors Kurogane had disappeared into and seemed to be waiting for him to make a reappearance. In another bid to get this annoyance out of his store, Kurogane grabbed a sponge mop and wheeled bucket on his way back out into the store proper and gave a pointed look toward the man's boots and the little bits of slush and soil that were melting off of them. Fai's smile turned into an almost exaggeratedly sheepish grin.

"Well, you're not benefiting from my conversation," the blond said a bit ruefully. "I suppose I should give you my custom to make up for insulting the purity of your floor." He put a gloved finger thoughtfully on his mouth and looked around, casting about for something to buy. It took the man a little bit to think of something suitable. Kurogane's store stocked mostly necessities and very little in the way of those random little things that one might pick up on whim, like decorative refrigerator magnets and postcards.

There were a few bottle opener keychains and lighters, but blue eyes passed over them without interest. His target was apparently something a bit better than a mere token purchase, which should have endeared him to a normal shopkeeper, but Kurogane's scowl only deepened as he followed the man around the store scrubbing up snowmelt. He wasn't really all that fussy about his floors, but he was not without hope that the constant squeak of the mop might guilt the man out of his building that much sooner.

They ended up in the far corner of the store where Kurogane kept a respectable stock of alcohol in locked glass cases. It was the one area of his shop with a good bit of variety and luxury to it. There were no "bottom shelf" bottles or boxed wines; everything was brand name and top dollar. The personality of the shopkeeper was still reflected in the fact that the vodkas were plain - no cranberry or black cherry, thanks - and the beers were all unapologetically alcoholic and calorie-laden. Non-alcoholic beer simply did not make sense to Kurogane, and as for "lite" options, he felt that if you wanted a healthy drink, you should stick to water.

"Am I still in the same store?" quipped Fai, having noticed the "take it or leave it" theme to the rest of the aisles and shelves.

"Unfortunately," muttered Kurogane before he could stop himself. Of course, he hadn't really tried all that hard. Fai just threw that "how cute, a joke" smile at him again before resuming his window shopping.

"This is definitely not the discount section," murmured the blond as he crouched down to read labels near the floor, and something - his tone, the quirk of his eyebrows, maybe even the way he still looked so perfect while hunched over with his lips pursed in concentration; Kurogane didn't know - made the shopkeeper frown and explain.

"People want to enjoy the scenery with a glass of Scotch, that's fine," replied Kurogane, resting one hand on the handle of his mop and the other on his hip while he waited. "But I'm not stocking a bunch of cheap crap so someone can come in with fifty bucks and then go drink themselves to death out in the woods because they're feeling crapped on and dramatic."

Big blue eyes were suddenly blinking up at him in surprise, and it made him bristle up and ask "what" in an irritable growl. He went unanswered despite the blond's more-than-probable willingness to engage in conversation as the front door opened again, this time much more energetically than when Fai had first entered. The second newcomer gave as contrasting a first impression to the blond as their respective entrances; the man was middle-aged, short and portly and ridiculously underdressed for the weather. The pay phone outside was enclosed in a booth and sheltered behind a windbreak besides, but it wasn't heated and a mere two layers of shirt and indifferent sweatshirt were no match for the freezing cold mountain air.

"Sir? I mean Fai...sir?" the man called, obviously flustered even just from the sound of his voice and though he expressed relief at spotting the blond as Fai stood up, his manner remained wound up.

"I'm so sorry but I have to go," the cabbie continued. "Go back down, I mean. I can't take you the rest of the way up. I've left your bags on the porch." The two met halfway in the soup aisle and stood talking for a minute or two while Kurogane minded his own business. The blond's subdued tones did not carry to the edges of the floor but the shopkeeper couldn't help but overhear some snatches of the cabbie's agitated explanations. The dark-haired man heard enough to raise an eyebrow - "police" and "investigation" - but stayed away and uninterested. It was not so much politeness as simply not wanting to be involved in anything to do with a Fluorite. This one or any of them, or even anyone at all that reeked so of the city and corruption.

Not that Fai actually stank of smog and slime. If anything the blonde smelled as clean and fresh as he looked, and just as his attractive person did, it just served to rub Kurogane the wrong way. Somehow it seemed like someone who came from such a city and such a family ought to _seem_ like it somehow...to carry the taint in a visible way. But the blonde was quite simply beautiful and those blue eyes were unmuddied by avarice or heartlessness. If anything, Fai seemed eager to please, or at least eager to be thought pleasing.

Even now, he was walking his cab driver out, waving at him cheerfully after shrugging his coat back on and calling out last-minute reminders to be careful while driving, to not worry too much and to say hello to Penny and little Grace for him. Kurogane thought a moment and then strode toward the front, a forbidding feeling making his forehead wrinkle a bit deeper. If the hotelier was being ditched by the cab driver, that meant Kurogane was the one getting said hotelier dumped on him. A vague idea of persuading the blond to get in the cab too and make his merry way back down the mountain occurred to him, but the driver moved fast despite his short legs and when the door opened, he nearly ran right into Fai, who was hurrying back inside with bags dangling from his hands.

Damn.

They did a little dance, circling each other so that Fai could edge in with his luggage while Kurogane looked out at the quickly fading lights from the taxi's tail lights and fared them well with a short sigh. When he stepped back inside, Fai's expression had changed from peppy to puzzled, and he turned to the taller man while hefting a rather dingy looking black duffel bag up.

"This one's not mine," the blond said, perplexed. Fai peered at Kurogane and Kurogane stared at the bag with a strange unease. It looked wet along one edge and he could have sworn the bag had just moved. "I wasn't sharing the cab with anyone though. I wonder if..."

The bag suddenly shifted and _wailed_ in a thin, reedy voice and Fai yelped in understandable surprise, opening his hand to drop the handles mid-air and jumping back from the suddenly sentient duffel. Kurogane didn't think; he just moved, surging forward to grab at the handles with one hand and catch the bag from the bottom with the other. It landed squarely in his palm, solid and heavy and _squirming_. The weight was uneven against his hand and Kurogane swore as whatever it was (_he __knew__ what it was; knew that sound, remembered it, heard it echoing in his ears when he woke up sweating and choking on an unvoiced shout_) almost tipped right out of his hand. He'd managed to grab the handles, however, and saved the bag from slipping away and onto the floor.

He broke out into a cold sweat at the thought.

"Oh my God, that scared me! Are there cats in there or something?!" Fai exclaimed, edging closer again. The high-pitched cry had cut off abruptly as the bag had dropped and now a faint whimpering and huffing could be heard, building up again toward another wail. Kurogane - heart hammering, breath finally coming back in shallow, unsteady gulps at what had almost just happened - carefully set the bag down on the check-out counter and grimaced as his left hand came away stained with dark red streaks from the bottom of the bag.

By his shoulder, Fai gasped softly but Kurogane had no attention to spare for the onlooker just now. He carefully pulled the opening of the bag up and away from the audibly upset contents of the duffel bag, worked the zipper open and then gingerly reached in with both hands to lift the occupant out, bloodstained towel and all.

"Oh my _God_," Fai repeated, breathless now and sounding about as stunned and sick as Kurogane felt. "That is not a cat," the blond commented weakly.

"No shit," Kurogane growled, finally tearing his eyes away from the whimpering infant in order to give Fai a scathing glare.


	2. Chapter 2

Shocked immobility was pretty much the only option at first as the two men took in the situation, but a fussing infant in a bloodstained towel was not exactly something that could just be stared at blankly for long; it demanded attention, and that right quick. Kurogane was the first to thaw, and a short snarl to Fai to make himself useful snapped the blond out of his daze as well. Soon the slender form was dashing around the store under Kurogane's direction and a makeshift bassinet was made out of a nest of clean shop towels layered in a tiny doggy bed on top of the counter, next to the coat and gloves that Fai had hastily shed. While Kurogane gingerly unwrapped the terrycloth burrito, Fai recalled everything that he could about how his taxi ride had begun and ended.

"I was walking out of the hospital and saw Kenny - the driver - walking toward the cab," Fai explained. "I thought he was a fare and asked if we could share, but it turned out he was the driver."

"Was he picking someone else up?" Kurogane asked, glancing up briefly with a thoughtful frown before resuming his extrication and examination, moving slowly in case the blood on the towel was from injuries that he didn't want to aggravate. "And what hospital?"

"Mercy, and no, not that I know of," Fai replied, frowning thoughtfully and tapping his chin with one finger. "Now that I think about it, cab drivers usually stay in their cars when picking up a fare anyway. Maybe...hmm, maybe he dropped the mother off and had to carry her inside because she'd fainted. Maybe that's her blood? And if she was unconscious, she wouldn't have been able to tell him that her baby was still in the cab."

"In a duffle bag? What mother does that?" Kurogane asked dubiously, though in the back of his mind he decided it wasn't impossible that there were drug-addled women who thought that a carry-all could carry anything including their baby. "And how'd he not notice the baby in the first place? How'd _you two_ not realize there was a baby in the cab on the way, for that matter?"

"It must have been in the back, brought in without Kenny noticing, or else he wouldn't have mistaken it for being mine," the blond surmised with a shrug and also a grimace shivering over his face at the thought of this tiny little life put in such a precarious position. "And I never heard a whimper until I brought the bag into your store."

"Where you immediately dropped it," replied Kurogane sharply, and despite the obvious horrific consequences, Fai was taken a bit aback at the veritable snarl that this was spoken in. He blinked and leaned back slightly as if fearful that the snarl would be followed up by a snap of white teeth, and quickly moved the conversation along.

"Kenny got a phone call on the way up from his dispatcher," the blond mentioned, "saying that he needed to call the police. And he had to leave me here because crime scene investigators needed to go over his taxi cab for possible evidence. He was nice enough not to involve me in it but perhaps this baby is the 'evidence' the police are looking for? It's not exactly traveling in a C.P.S.-approved manner."

"'She', not 'it'," came the correction, as the shopkeeper's initial triage was completed. The rest of what Fai had been saying passed without comment. The task at hand consumed almost all of Kurogane's attention, leaving little for hypothesis and theory. He preferred to deal with realities anyway.

The stand-in baby blanket had been bloodied but it seemed to have all been someone else's blood and not the infant's; a disturbing enough thought on its own, but still better than the alternative. The ruined fabric was crumpled up and tossed over the counter to disappear somewhere behind it. Besides having been bundled up in a towel the baby was also dressed in footed pajamas of a pale pink with some tiny little pattern scattered over it, or rather half-dressed; the young man press ganged by fate into serving as a field pediatrician had unsnapped the garment and given the baby a careful going-over with keen eyes and careful fingers, checking for injuries.

Fai kept silent and watched with great interest as the grumpy, growly shopkeeper went over the tiny creature with unexpected gentleness. The lightly fuzzed head was caressed, each limb was felt over, each joint manipulated, and finally the baby was lifted again into those strong arms and hefted for a while as if the shopkeeper was trying to guess at the weight of a cantaloupe. All this contact and attention seemed to soothe the infant, and instead of wrinkling up her face and keeping up her whining, the baby was calmly gazing back at those ruddy eyes with blue-grey orbs of her own.

It was like watching a grizzly bear grooming a kitten.

"Seems like she's in one piece, with nothing broken that I can tell," Kurogane finally said, with relief plainly present in his tone. He sighed, laid the baby girl back into the plush pet bed and began fastening her pajamas back up, starting at the ankle and working his way up her body toward her collar. She was no longer whimpering, but squirmed restlessly when set down and twisted her little mouth about as if working her way up to a cry of protest.

"She should be okay for the drive back down so long as you don't try to drop her again."

"What?" Fai looked blankly at the other man, and got looked at right back as if he were an idiot.

"Does this look like a daycare to you?" Kurogane asked with asperity. "Get on the phone and call the hospital where you were. Have them find out if any of their recent arrivals are missing a baby and tell them we're on our way." And with that, the shopkeeper turned and stalked off toward the back of the store, weaving a slightly circuitous route through the aisles and picking items off of the shelves as he went. He left two fair-haired strangers at his register, one no less lost than the other, save in different ways.

The owner of the store disappeared into the back for long enough that when he finally reappeared, he was nursing a slight anxiety that the spoiled little rich boy might have harmed the infant through sheer ineptness and ignorance. Unhappy noises were issuing from the fleece-lined pseudo bassinet, quickening Kurogane's steps, but he slowed to a halt by an end-cap at the sight of the blond doing his level best to address the fussing. Sadly, it seemed that Fai's "best" was founded on zero experience and hardly much more practical theory. Kurogane leaned against a display of crackers and cookies, cocking an eyebrow over the way Fai was offering flowery apologies in a sing-song lilt and giving hesitant little pats as if consoling an old lady for the untimely loss of one of her budgies.

"I do apologize for the accommodations but I'm afraid there wasn't any time to prepare something more suitable for you," the hotelier said anxiously. "Poor dear, this padding isn't even memory foam or anything, is it? If my housekeeping staff were here I'd make sure you had the softest jersey cotton sheets you could want, but I'm a bit displaced myself you see, so _please_ won't you be a dear and stop crying? Please?" Those pale hands gave the squirming baby another hesitant pat.

Kurogane almost felt sorry for the poor bastard, clearly out of his depth here and sounding more desperate than the child for some sort of succor, but the mention of maids to cater to his every whim brought the shopkeeper's hackles back up. With an irritated growl at himself for thinking even for a split second that the man deserved any pity (_or admiration for doing his pathetic best, or to be found amusing because there was nothing amusing about a Fluorite_), Kurogane strode forward and dumped the laundry basket and olive green knapsack he'd been carrying onto the floor, making Fai startle.

"She's not an alarm clock; quick whacking her."

"I wasn't!" Fai protested with a quick laugh, and then gave the taller an absolutely pathetic, utterly fake look. "I just don't know what to do with babies."

Kurogane snorted. Obviously.

"She sounds so unhappy; I'm afraid something's wrong," continued Fai, either not noticing the derisive noise or too spun up over the infant's fussing to care.

"Of course something's wrong," Kurogane replied with a long-suffering sigh. If the blond thought these frustrated little whimpers were the worst noise a baby could make, he was probably going to be in for a nasty shock in the next few hours. When babies were really unhappy, they made sure everyone within earshot shared their unhappiness.

"Strange place, strange faces, strange voices...babies like routine and security and she's got none of that right now." He didn't bother explaining how he knew this or what to do. Instead he reached out without another word and picked the fusser up, supporting her neck until she was draped against him, little head snug under his chin and limbs tucked up as if she were a tree fog suction-cupped to his chest. A large, tanned hand gave the diapered rump a few quick pats. There there. The big blond dork isn't chattering nonsense at you anymore.

The cessation of mini-wails was instantaneous, and Kurogane tried not to feel smug about such a little thing as this. Or to hesitate a little too long over the feel of having a baby fitted so neatly against his body. He gave the little rear end a few more pats before carefully clearing some space on the countertop, which was looking more like a changing table instead of a check-out counter.

"I wish I could do that with all _my_ customers," the hotelier mused, and Kurogane turned to face him fully and just stare at him. Despite all his prejudices and preconceived notions about the man's probable lack of morals and common sense, that last comment had just been a little too stupid to let pass without obvious judging. He just got a blank stare back at first, and then a lightbulb seemed to go on.

"Hm? Oh! Not cuddle them and give them a smack on the butt," Fai laughed, and the taller found himself unaccountably relieved that the idiot wasn't _that_ idiotic. "I meant soothe them so naturally when they're upset. I'm pretty good at customer service but sometimes a guest just wants the impossible, and...well." Blue eyes drifted further and further away toward the end and it seemed like the blond was remembering more than conversing. Kurogane found himself interested at the brief flicker of discomfort and suggestion of a blush that he thought he could see before the sunshine smile came back out (_and perhaps "the impossible" was not just unicorn-shaped mints on the pillow but that blond head, too_), and then got irritated at himself for being interested.

"Speaking of impossible, I don't suppose you made that call like I asked you to."

"Miracles happen," Fai replied, pulling the cheer out at full force again as if to cover for his slip. "I did indeed, although I didn't find out much. A young woman was dropped off shortly before I left and they think it's possible the infant is hers, but she's in surgery, so she obviously won't be answering any questions for a while yet."

"Surgery?"

"They couldn't give me any more information than that," Fai said, giving Kurogane a politely apologetic smile. Probably the same smile he turned on customers who expected that waving a title or name or platinum card around guaranteed their ability to extend a stay for two more days during a convention week. "They don't even know who she is; right now she's Jane Doe."

"What about your friend, Kevin or whatever. If his dispatcher was in contact with the police, maybe he'd know more."

A pale eyebrow quirked momentarily at this, reminding Kurogane that he actually hadn't been a part of that conversation; only overheard little bits and pieces. He didn't feel any need to excuse or justify himself to a Fluorite of all people, but he did give a little shrug as if to admit his eavesdropping and argue that it was hardly worth making a fuss over at the moment.

"You mean the cab driver? Kenny?" Fai queried back. "I just met him at the hospital. He seemed rather flustered by the police involvement; even if I could track him down through the name of his cab company I doubt very much he'd tell me anything confidential."

"What, you're strangers? You two were chatting all buddy-buddy. You were sending messages to his wife and kid, weren't you?"

"His schnauzers, actually. It's a long drive," explained Fai with a light laugh, showing off teeth that seemed entirely too pearly to be natural. "_Some_ people like a little light conversation to pass the time."

"Some people think it's a _waste_ of time," Kurogane growled, not a little perplexed by the idea of spending so much time and breath on a person that you'd very likely never meet again. What was the use of getting so chummy with a random person that you'd want to be remembered to his _dogs_, for God's sake? For Kurogane, conversation was a necessary evil for the most part, to be cherished only with a precious few. It was like a bottle of fine alcohol; why waste it on strangers? He suddenly remembered how Fai had attempted to drag _him_ into conversation when they'd first met, too, and they were hardly more likely to ever meet again, since Fai only came up to the cabin a couple of times a year and had never stopped by Kurogane's shop before.

Whatever it was that drove the blond's mania for conversation, however, the fact remained that they still didn't know anything about the baby that fate - in the form of a leggy blond - had unknowingly deposited on Kurogane's doorstep.

"Well, whatever," the shopkeeper grumbled. The baby snuffled and squirmed against his chest, reminding him of his current priorities. He found himself wanting more and more to just get rid of these two strangers and get back to the peace and quiet of his regular routine. The baby was too warm and heavy and comfortable and the blond was more interesting (_beautiful, with changeable eyes like what Kurogane imagined the ocean to be like_) than he had any right to be. "Let's just get her fed and changed and then take her back to the hospital. Grab that basket for me."

"Shouldn't we just get her back as soon as possible?" Fai asked, even as he bent to sweep up the laundry basket as ordered.

"Like you said, it's a long drive up from the city," Kurogane replied, and shook his head half in a simple negative and half in resignation at how clueless the blond was about anyone not old enough to order room service. "Babies need more than three squares a day." There was a hastily warmed up bottle of infant formula in the basket along with some very basic baby maintenance items, and he continued using the other man as an assistant, snapping out orders for this and that. He was not going to drive down the mountain with _two_ whiny infants complaining in his ear the whole way.

Kurogane set the squirmer back into the pet bed and started unfastening her pajamas again, much to her discontent. Diaper duty called, and despite the unsavoriness of the task and how long it had been since he'd last had any practice, the man was not about to entrust the blond with it. The baby would end up with the diaper tied around her like a tutu. It wasn't exactly like getting back on a horse, but it was simple enough of a thing and soon enough he had a clean, powder-scented baby neatly bundled back up in her footie-pajamas and burrito'd in a clean pillowcase from his closet. He'd grabbed bottles, powdered formula, diapers, wipes and baby powder off of his own shelves because MacGyvering that kind of stuff was just asking for trouble, but the pragmatic man figured that a wrap was a wrap, and a pillowcase good enough to serve as a baby blanket for a few hours.

"Gimme your hand," he commanded while surveying his work, and then dropped a warm, rather smelly diaper into Fai's upturned palm with a barely concealed smirk. The diaper was neatly wrapped with the velcro-like end tabs snugly fastened because Kurogane was not quite so cruel or desirous of having a mess made in his store, but the blond's reaction was still quite satisfying. Kurogane was well into his twenties, but a bit of childishness still lingered, perhaps.

"Aah!" Fai cried out in disgust, startling the baby and kicking off a fresh gush of high-pitched protests, and then the man was frantically casting around for a waste bin. A quick search turned one up right on the other side of the counter from where Kurogane stood once again soothing the infant, and the storekeeper received a glare in return for the trick. The bloodied towel had been neatly dropped into the waste bin, so it was obvious that Kurogane had known exactly where it was and could have tossed the diaper away himself.

"Never gotten your hands dirty before?" Kurogane asked, with an effort at making sure only derision entered his tone and not any of the amusement he was feeling. He was sure that all that family's hands dripped with money and blood, but all the dirt and grease of honest work was probably fastidiously manicured away.

"Is this how you treat all your customers?" Fai countered. He was still glaring, but the effect was rather ruined by the fact that he couldn't keep his mouth from twitching into a smile despite himself.

"You're not a customer," the shopkeeper reminded the man pointedly. _And even if you were, you'd still be a Fluorite._ Kurogane did not do any self-examination on the point of how he did not actually treat those he despised in this sort of manner. Those he liked got grudging respect and rough-edged kindness and an occasional taste of his humor. Those he disliked got ignored. Kurogane was standing there hating the man but acting like he was family, and didn't even realize the disparity in his thoughts and manner.

As for Fai, at the reminder that he hadn't yet done anything except distract the shopkeeper from his work, soil the floor with his wet boots and almost drop a baby on the floor, the hotelier had the grace to look embarrassed and discard his petulance. It should have surprised Kurogane, since he was assigning the man all sorts of character defects like vanity, selfishness and entitlement, but it didn't.

"Oh, right. Well, I'll pay for these things," Fai offered, gesturing at the box of diaper wipes and other baby goods now littering the countertop, but Kurogane shook his head and then tried to hand the fussing infant off to the blond.

"Forget it, just feed her for me while I close up shop." And get the two fair-haired strangers the hell out of his store. And life.

Handing off the baby did not go so simply as handing off the diaper. Fai backed away as if Kurogane had shoved a box of cobras at him, even raising his hands and stammering a bit as he tried to make clear his lack of qualifications to be appointed the child's nurse even temporarily. The taller just stood there for a moment with the little girl still suspended in his two hands and one eyebrow raised at this over-the-top reaction before sighing in exasperation.

"It's easy," he said with exaggerated - and probably unconvincing - patience, raising his voice just enough to be heard clearly over the infant's increasingly noisy wails. "Just hold her in one arm like a football and use your free hand to stick the bottle in her mouth." When the other man looked as if he might continue to protest, Kurogane gritted his teeth and then growled an ultimatum, increasingly irritated at the delays. Why couldn't people just do what he said to do? Or at least leave him alone? Or at least not drop babies into his life like a stork with no sense of direction?

"Look, I am closing up shop and driving this baby down the mountain. And _soon_, because there's a storm due tomorrow. You have two choices; get out and start hiking or help me and _maybe_ earn yourself a ride to your cabin." His original, unspoken idea had been to just ditch the blond at the hospital and let him try to find another driver willing to take him to his cabin, but Kurogane threw in the offer of a ride as bait.

The choices were not very choice, but one was suicide and Fai apparently not wanting to die today. After a few seconds of helpless hemming and hawing, the blond grabbed the baby bottle out of the laundry basket and plunked himself down on the floor atop his folded-up coat, which he grabbed off the counter and threw down for a cushion. Kurogane thought the man could have managed standing up, but considering the non-impossibility of Fai actually dropping the baby again, it wasn't a bad idea to have them stay low to the ground.

Pale hands were lifted up hesitatingly but Kurogane gestured them back down before kneeling in front of the unwilling nanny. He carefully set the infant down into Fai's left arm, her head nestled into the crook of an elbow and the rest of her draping along a forearm. Once the weight of the little body was on him, Fai instinctively cradled her close, and seemed almost surprised at how simple a thing it was to carry a baby one-handed.

Getting her going on the bottle was also cake and pie. Her mouth was already open as she made rather angry little rawrs and mews, and as soon as the latex nipple hit her lips, she latched on eagerly and started suckling away. Fai looked up at Kurogane in delight, mouth open in a big smile.

"She's drinking!" he exclaimed, and for once Kurogane didn't want to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious.

"Good job," he replied absently, listening to those muffled clicks and smacks that made up the proper soundtrack for a nursing infant. Ruddy eyes were fixed intently on the infant as she in turn stared up at him, dark blue eyes wide open now that she wasn't scrunching her whole face up in unhappiness. She blinked and then looked away toward the man holding her next, and Kurogane ended up doing the same except in reverse order. He glanced up to Fai's face and then blinked at finding himself being stared at by _this_ blue-eyed stranger as well, and with such an expression.

There was hardly any actual expression worth describing; Fai's face was mostly calm, but there was something to the slightly widened eyes and the millimeter of space between those lips as if he'd forgotten to close his mouth all the way after speaking. As if he'd forgotten because he'd been caught by surprise somehow, and by Kurogane...by proximity or some look or word, and now he just stared. It was the same look that he'd given Kurogane over by the shelves of alcohol, and got the same reaction this time as well.

"What?" Kurogane asked shortly, irritable because he was uncomfortable. Because there was someone in his shop and space and life and he didn't want that. And before Fai could respond, the dark-haired man surged to his feet and stalked away, escaping into the back again.

* * *

Fai and his little charge were left alone for a longer time than before, but the minutes seemed to have passed easily. When Kurogane returned from locking up with his coat, gloves and keys in his hands, the two were still as he'd left them, only now the bottle was empty and resting on the floor. Fai had one hand free now and had it very lightly, almost hesitatingly laid across the baby's legs. He looked up at the sound of footsteps and gave Kurogane a mixed look; part triumph, part terror. Thin lips parted and mouthed something slowly and exaggeratedly.

_What do I do?_

"You talk out loud like a normal person," Kurogane replied blandly, tossing his things onto the knapsack that was still on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Fai hissed frantically as the little bundle in his arms burbled and twitched slightly. "She's going to wake up."

"She's not going to stay asleep long. I'd bet my car that you didn't think to burp her. Give her to me; I'll do it while you get ready." Not that Kurogane wasn't willing to let the blond risk soiling his overpriced clothing with spit up. He just didn't trust the idiot to know how firmly you needed to pat a baby in order to move air bubbles around. Fai seemed both relieved and distressed at giving the baby up, and once his arms were free did not pick up his coat or put his gloves back on. Instead, he stood and hovered, lips pressed together as he gazed at the child who was now free of the pillowcase-wrap and being lightly bounced.

"Why are you jiggling her around like that?" the blond queried anxiously.

"It's easier to burp 'em when they're awake," Kurogane explained, and then blew lightly in the baby's face. "Oi, Jane Doe. Wake up."

"Girls are Roe, not Doe," the blond corrected in a quick, automatic manner. "And babies are Precious, not Jane or John."

Whatever her legal designation was, the voices, movement, loss of warmth and puff in the face all combined to do the trick, and the baby woke up with a displeased scrunch of her features. Step one complete, her current keeper laid her over his shoulder and began patting her firmly on the back while eyeing the hotelier dubiously.

"Precious Roe," Kurogane said flatly, unwilling to believe something so stupid-sounding. It hung in the air between them and he could practically hear the name being tossed around inside that - probably otherwise empty - head.

"We could call her Caviar."

"No. God, no. Get your coat on." Pat pat.

"Boutargue? Ouriço do mar?" Fai asked over one shoulder as he turned to grab his gloves from the counter.

"What the hell is...no, never mind. Just shut up and get ready." Pat pat pat.

"Something more Asian? Ikura? Masago? Karasumi?"

"Will you cut that out? Does the baby _look_ Asian to you?! How do you even know what that stuff is?" The last question slipped out before Kurogane could remind himself that he wasn't interested in anything about the stranger.

"Well, no," admitted Fai, peering around Kurogane's shoulder at the baby's face while shrugging on his coat. "She looks more like me than you. And I run a place on the west coast called-"

"I know who you are and what you do," interrupted Kurogane, with a sudden return of a biting edge to his voice. He'd been returning irritable growls for all of Fai's banter but now he sounded truly angry, and the blond immediately shut up and took a half step back, blue eyes wide in surprise. Right on the edge of the moment turning awkward on one side and unnecessarily antagonistic on the other, the baby squirmed, mewled, and then let out a deep, bubbly belch that went on for a good two seconds at least.

"Oh my _God_," Fai exclaimed, shock making his jaw drop. "Was that the _baby_?!"

"Wasn't me," replied Kurogane, unfazed. He gave the infant a few more bounces and pats, but that one monstrosity seemed to have been it. She settled comfortably against him with a little murmur, seemingly perfectly ready to go back to sleep. He gestured over to the counter with his chin and began issuing orders again now that Fai was suited up against the cold, though it took a few repetitions before those big baby blues tore themselves away from the little gas-bag.

Kurogane bundled the baby back up in pillowcases while Fai packed the doggie bed into the laundry basket under the shopkeeper's direction. The pet bed served decently well as a bassinet for an infant too young yet to roll over and crawl away, but the dark-haired man did not want to have to worry about the baby sliding out of the scoop-shaped opening along one side, or the pet bed itself sliding off the seat during a sharp turn. The laundry basket provided high walls on all sides and had holes for handles that a seatbelt could be looped through besides, and was the best Kurogane could rustle up in the way of a car seat. His store did not carry _everything_.

Clean, fed, comfortable and warm, the infant submitted to being set down again without a peep of protest. The makeshift quality of her blankets and bedding seemed not to disturb her at all, her sense of aesthetics being as undeveloped as her motor skills. That part of the "get the strangers the hell out of his life" plan went smoothly for Kurogane.

None of the rest of it did.

Fai was capable of following directions, but seemed incapable of actually doing so without questioning said directions. He worried aloud that little fingers might get caught in the weave of the laundry basket, and when Kurogane showed him how the baby's hands were pretty well immobilized by layers of pillowcase, only switched over to worrying that the baby wouldn't like being "mummified" like that. The taller explained - with a long-suffering sigh - that babies liked being wrapped snugly because it reminded them of being in the womb. While Fai thankfully did not question this bit of wisdom, he still looked a bit dubious and kept peering closely at those chubby little cheeks and buttoned-up eyes as if almost hoping she'd start complaining and prove him correct.

"Stop gawking at her; you're going to go cross-eyed," Kurogane said dryly. "Come on, you ready to go?" He shrugged on his coat, stuffed his gloves into a pocket, picked up his keys and knapsack, and then paused for a moment to watch his companion. Fai knelt, made a few tentative grabs at the handle, finally seemed to get a grip he liked and then lifted the basket up as cautiously as if it contained a bomb.

...and then turned and began mincing toward the front.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kurogane asked with a sigh, and Fai turned and blinked at him.

"To the door?" came the reply, in about the same tone of voice as a schoolboy giving an obviously incorrect answer because it was the only one he had. Kurogane didn't know whether to sigh yet again or smack his head against the countertop. How spoiled, sheltered or stupid was this man?

"You can't take her outside wrapped in nothing but a few thin layers, and _I_ don't keep my car buried in a snowbank. Just wait in the office while I warm the car up." He jerked his head toward the back of the store and then moved forward himself to lock the front doors that Fai had been heading toward. That done, he followed the other man - overtook him and passed him - and went on into the back of the property. There was a little office and restroom facing each other across a hallway, the door to the garage, a narrow staircase to the second floor, and then it all opened up into a large storeroom full of shelves and boxes.

After holding the door open - for the sake of the basket's occupant, and not out of any other impulse - Kurogane passed through into the garage where his Audi Q7 sat with a week's worth of dust on it. He always washed it after hitting the roads to keep dirt and road salt from hastening the vehicle's eventual retirement, but otherwise did not waste much time in keeping it meticulously groomed. The inner workings were maintained religiously - up here, not keeping your car in good working order was on par with letting your supplies of water and fuel run out - and he was normally neat enough that the interior didn't need much more than a cursory pass with Windex and a vacuum once in a while, but that was it.

The vehicle came with enough of a price tag that most owners put a great deal more care into its appearance, but Kurogane had only splurged on the Q7 because it had so much more torque and storage than most of the other snow-worthy vehicles rumbling around the Rockies. He didn't have a family or five friends and their skis to squeeze into the SUV, and he wasn't one of those jerks who revved their engines like they ran their mouths, but monthly trips down into the city to pick up whatever he couldn't get delivered went much more smoothly when he wasn't worrying about blowing a piston or constantly elbowing a box out of his ribs. He'd had a Forester before, but after building up enough irritation at the cramped interior he'd ditched the Subaru and brought the Audi home instead.

The vehicle obediently came to life at Kurogane's command. He didn't pamper the vehicle but he _did_ have a very well insulated garage and a block heater. The garage door was opened a bit to keep carbon monoxide from building up too quickly, and Kurogane ducked outside to check the driveway. He kept it decently shoveled and the day proved not to have been so stormy that the accumulated snow presented any problems, so after a cursory look around he walked back through the garage and stepped back inside.

One hand supporting him on the doorframe, he leaned into the office but frowned at finding it empty of both blond and baby, though the basket was sitting on the floor. The empty container got frowned at in mixed annoyance and confusion, but it yielded no confessions. Kurogane shoved aside the little shard of worry prickling at his chest (_he heard no thin cries in the darkness, no wails ringing in his ears_) and continued his search. The bathroom door was open and the lights off, and a quick check of the storefront showed it to still be deserted as well. Cursing the idle curiosity of a city idiot with ADD practically bred into him by a lifestyle where everything was on-demand and microwavable in less than three minutes, Kurogane began stalking down the hallway into the storage area.

He stopped dead as the ceiling creaked.

So far Kurogane hadn't exactly been generous in how much credit to give to the stranger but apparently he'd given the man _some_, because he was surprised when he realized - with a rush of hot anger - that his private space had been invaded. Biting off a curse between gritted teeth, he trod heavily up the stairs and had the satisfaction of hearing a guilty patter of quick steps rushing to meet him at the top. An acidic series of comments on modern notions of privacy and respect was on the tip of his tongue but he threw them away after a moment of consideration. Fai had certainly earned a chewing out but Kurogane wasn't going to waste his breath and energy. He hoped to see the back of the man before the next day was out; it wasn't anything to him whether or not the idiot ever got his moral compass fine-tuned.

The footsteps were right at the door now, which was slightly ajar, and Kurogane waited in the corner of the landing. He was unwilling to risk running into the other man at speed and possibly smash-sandwiching the infant between them like an unfortunate little dollop of jam. Lucky for the hotelier. If Fai had been up there alone, Kurogane might have been tempted to grab the man by the collar and throw him down the stairs. A shadowy form filled the slight opening and then a boot delicately toed the door open, revealing an appropriately contrite and ashamed Fluorite. The expression was thrown away on the scowling homeowner. If anything it even angered Kurogane further, thinking of it as he did as merely an act to soften his righteous indignation.

"I'm sorry," Fai apologized immediately with a hesitant smile. He held the baby against his chest as Kurogane had done earlier, and if he thought of the child as merely a possible shield against the other man's temper it didn't show in the way he carefully cradled her. "I didn't-"

"I don't care," Kurogane growled, interrupting whatever the blond was going to say. Didn't realize Kurogane had come back inside, didn't think it was a problem if he stuck his little nose wherever he wanted, didn't want to stay downstairs and do as he was told...whatever it was, Kurogane was certain it would irritate him. He didn't feel too far off from snapping and possibly startling the baby into crying, and that was definitely not something he wanted to hear right now (_ever_) either.

"Just get downstairs." Kurogane turned and led by example immediately after delivering this order, letting the unspoken "or else" linger in the corner like an angry ghost. Soft footfalls followed him down, slow because Fai literally watched every step, leaning over while plotting out the next cautious toe-tap. He held the infant in such a way as to get every last centimeter of contact he possibly could, cradling her not just with his hands, fingers splayed out, but with his forearms as well. Kurogane hit the bottom quickly and turned and waited, watching, noticing the almost paranoid care the blond was taking and finding himself softened by it...bemused and amused.

...and then irritated and annoyed at himself for being so. It felt like blinking off a dazzle some street magician had cast over your eyes and then realizing how onlookers were giggling at you behind their hands.

The damage had been done, however, and when Fai hit the ground floor Kurogane was not unduly surly with him. The baby was placed back into her makeshift traveling assembly with the same care as she'd been brought downstairs. Once the basket was lifted up again Kurogane wordlessly herded the other man out into the garage. He stopped to lock the door behind him and then opened up the rear passenger side door, and when Fai sidled up Kurogane took the laundry basket from him and set it down inside. The blond hovered, trying to peep at the baby while she - or rather the container she lay in - was being buckled in, but the shopkeeper's broad torso blocked the basket from view and Fai soon gave it up and opened up the front passenger side door.

"Oi, not there," Kurogane said, deep voice muffled slightly as he spoke with his head still ducked into the car. "Other side."

"I'm driving?" Fai replied, clearly surprised at this thought, and Kurogane re-emerged with a snort.

"Hell no. Get in the back and watch her. Make sure she doesn't turn her face into the blankets or start to slide off the seat."

Fai looked no less startled now than he had a moment ago when he thought he might have to be the one to tackle the narrow mountain road in the dark in a strange car. Kurogane thought the pale face might have even turned a shade paler, and on impulse, gave the man a rough pat-smack on the back by way of encouragement. And to get the waffler into the car.

"Just tell me if something happens and I'll tell you what to do," Kurogane said, not wanting to freak the other man out by listing possible scenarios requiring intervention. If the nervous ignoramus suddenly found out about spit-up and colic and S.I.D.S. he'd probably refuse to get in the car at all. The reassurance seemed to do the trick and Fai got into the car without further delay, and when Kurogane got in himself and then glanced back he snorted to see that the blond had secured himself into the middle seat, the better to stare obsessively at his charge.

"You look like a vulture hovering over her like that," he commented. "Get behind me, stork; you're blocking the rear view."

"Stork?" Fai laughed lightly while unbuckling and re-seating himself off to the side.

"Tall, scrawny bird-brain who dropped a baby into my hands," replied Kurogane wryly. "Stork."

"The stork has a name," came the light, lilting reminder from the back, but Kurogane just grumbled something impolite and put the car in reverse.

"The grizzly bear has a temper," Fai then whispered noisily to the laundry basket.

"What did you call me?" Kurogane asked flatly, turning around again, ostensibly to check behind him as he pulled out into the driveway, but also to level a dark scowl at his passenger. He was blithely ignored however, as the baby chose that moment to snuffle and yawn, making a little _awpff_ noise that ended in a little mewl of a sigh. The display seemed to utterly enchant the hotelier, and Kurogane's death glare passed harmlessly over that golden fluff as it bent over the laundry basket.

"No growling, grumpy bear; the little kitten is sleepy."

"Keep that up and I'm going to strap you to the roof for the rest of the drive."

"But then who would watch our little kitty?"

"Shut. _Up_."

"Sorry, my little bird brain didn't understand that last one," the blond trilled, and then went back to making small talk with the baby.

Kurogane resisted the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel, instead contenting himself with a deep sigh and a reminder to himself that murder was illegal. After punching the proper button on the remote control for the garage door with slightly more force than was strictly necessary, making the plastic creak in protest, he threw the car into gear and began the long drive down the mountain.

"Hyuu~ I hadn't noticed before but Mister Bear has a nice car."

The long, _long_ drive.


	3. Chapter 3

The long, annoying drive turned out to not be quite so annoying nor anywhere near as long as Kurogane darkly predicted to himself as he drove down into and through Elk Ridge. Instead it was short and shocking, and he would have been glad to trade it with a promise to drive from his store to the Fluorite hotel in San Francisco with Fai in control of the radio the whole way.

Having once clued in to the fact that nicknames and silliness were slightly more effective than what seemed to be his habitual sweetly suave charm at prying sentences out of the shopkeeper, the blond kept up a running dialogue with his fellow passenger. The infant was mercifully asleep, lulled by the thrum and vibrations of the vehicle, and therefore blissfully unconscious of the stupidity she was being bombarded with. Kurogane, on the other hand, was peppered with the nicknames he'd unthinkingly kicked off until Fai finally teased more than just a short snarl from him. The dark-haired man envied the baby her unconscious state and cursed his own tongue and temper for providing entertainment to the stranger in his back seat.

The only thing he could think of to be thankful for was that his passenger seemed not to have any more liking of casual touch than Kurogane did himself. The babble could be tuned out with some effort, but if Fai started clinging or playing with his hair he'd have to stop the car so that he could break the man's fingers.

Once a conversation of sorts was established - impolite as it was on Kurogane's side - Fai cheerfully started up with his questions again. All the initial information-gathering attempts that had failed at the store were re-launched, and while the shopkeeper did not answer them graciously, he ended up giving away little scraps and shards of his history and private life just to minimize the petulant accusations of "the big growly grizzly bear" being as stingy with words as with honey.

...which was doubly stupid, because Kurogane hated sweets. But to avoid the whining, he answered the less invasive questions such as whether he'd lived here all his life (yes) and how long he'd been running the store (a few years). Queries about how he liked living here, whether business was good and the customers pleasant were all answered in much the same manner; everything was fine. He denied having any particular favorite colors, hobbies, animals or sports and claimed to eat, drink and listen to just about anything. More personal inquiries concerning reasons behind facts and choices and realities were flatly ignored and invariably followed by an exchange of silliness and snarls until Fai managed to gain a conversational toehold again.

Though the topics remained light and Kurogane's replies ultra-terse, Fai did not run out of things to say. They ran out of road first.

They left Elk Ridge behind and were only ten or so miles in to the main mountain pass when Kurogane came face to face with a wall of rock and snow rising up in his headlights. It was just around a sharp turn and he'd turned his head to look at the back seats for a split second, and so it took him by such surprise that it was like the mountain had suddenly decided to jump out in front of his car. The tail end of his umpteenth snarl to Fai to quit calling him Mister Grumpy Bear for God's sake was cut abruptly off, and after a split-second's freeze Kurogane bore down on the brakes firmly and steadily. He kept the car pointed straight since he was caught between rocks and a null space to the right and left. The Audi could handle a bump on the nose, but bringing down more rocks with a shuddering scrape against the mountainside or taking a swan dive off into nothingness were not viable options.

Kurogane stared blankly through the windshield even after the car came to a halt inches away from the rockslide, heart pounding and hands aching from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. It wasn't the unexpectedness of Mother Nature's little tricks that had him struggling to breathe, but rather the memory of how, on seeing that wall of white and black rising up before him, he'd thought for a split second that he'd been so distracted by Fai that he'd turned into the mountain instead. He'd almost jerked the wheel to the left to _get back onto the road_ and avoid the mountainside, and if he'd followed through with that thought instead of realizing...

He forced his hands to open and his arms to unlock, and with a slow, shaky breath, twisted in his seat to look back at his passengers. The baby was right where she was supposed to be - and in no critical state if the strident cries at being so rudely startled awake were anything to go by - and the basket she lay in was secure in its seat, held by both a seatbelt and a pair of thin arms flung out to encircle it.

Fai's entire body was out-flung, in fact. He seemed to have thrown himself violently to the side and was now staring up at Kurogane while lying almost prone across the middle seat. One long leg was crooked up and braced against the back of the driver's seat, and that and the seatbelt now half-strangling the blond seemed to be the only things keeping Fai from face-planting the edge of the laundry basket.

"I'm sorry," Fai whispered in a pause between the baby's yowls, wide-eyed and paler than ever, and Kurogane frowned because he didn't know what else to do. If the slender form was some sprite with power over weather and earth and a truly miserable notion of mischief that was one thing, but otherwise the dark-haired man could see no reason for the apology.

"What?" he asked, his own voice not much more than a harsh whisper, as if they were both afraid that talking too loudly might bring down more of the mountainside on top of them. Never mind the infant crying lustily in the laundry basket.

"For distracting you."

Ruddy eyes stared a moment longer as he absorbed the fact that Fai was taking on the blame for this near-tragedy, when it was Kurogane's fault for letting himself be distracted. Fai was an ignorant city-dweller who obviously couldn't be expected to know how to behave up here in the fresh air, while he himself knew damned well that these roads demanded respect, and even now Kurogane could hardly believe how easily this strange stranger got under his skin. The solitary shopkeeper was a master at ignoring, shrugging off and shutting out. How had he come to be bickering back and forth with this idiot as if they were two kids picking at each other across a picnic table?

"Forget it," he said dismissively, neither accepting the apology nor agreeing with the need for it. "Just sit tight." With no warning or explanation, he unbuckled himself - telling himself that his hands were shaking because of cold and adrenaline, and not because the crying of an infant was ringing through the car - and got out to take stock of the situation. Fai's startled query about where he was going got ignored. Where was there for him to go, after all?

A quick survey was all that he needed to know that they were at once safe and in great danger. He'd stopped the car quickly and steadily enough that they were still solidly in their own lane, but they were definitely not going to be able to proceed as planned. The Audi's headlights cut through the gloom, illuminating the blockade of rock and shredded shrubbery well enough for Kurogane to see that it would take at least a day or two for road crews to clear it away, and that only if the weather stayed clear enough for them to get up here and work. A thin wind whistled up the road, pushing some snowflakes ahead of it and making the shopkeeper none too optimistic. That storm was already on its way.

He paced around the car, shoulders hunched against the cold seeping through his coat and frown growing deeper as he eyeballed distances. There were two lanes but they were narrow things with no shoulder on either the mountain or cliff side, and his vehicle wasn't exactly tiny. It wasn't as if he was driving a Chevy Suburban or limousine by any means, but the math still made him uneasy. Unpleasant though realities were, they had to be faced, and he bit off a curse before walking to the rear driver's side door and opening it up so that he could lean in and talk to his passenger.

"Grab her out of the basket, hold her inside your coat and get out," he said without preamble, raising his voice slightly to speak over the whistle of the wind and the baby's continued complaints. Fai was leaning over her improvised carseat and cooing at her soothingly but she'd already proven to be the sort who needed all-out cuddling to calm down and was having none of it. "I have to turn the car around so we can head back up." Instead of immediate compliance, Fai withdrew his hand from the laundry basket and looked at Kurogane as if doubting his hearing. Or the other man's sanity.

"She'll freeze!" the blond protested. "Why would we have to get out? It's not like our combined weight is going to drag the car off the road as you drive."

Kurogane clenched his teeth and wished the hotelier was more timid, less logical, more easily cowed and swayed and bullied around...anything that would let the dark-haired man avoid lengthy - and awkward - confessions.

"Just do it, all right?" he snapped impatiently, and then added an explanation to bolster his orders when the other man remained firmly planted in his seat, making no moves that spoke compliance. "I can get the car turned around but it'll be close and I'll be able to concentrate better if you're both safe over there." (_And he wouldn't have to block out the baby's fretting, wouldn't have to sweat as he imagined the grouchy little complaints turning into piercing wails echoing off the surfaces of a car swallowed up by darkness and-_)

"Standing out in the freezing cold by a mountainside that's already proven quite clearly to be prone to crumbling is not _safe_," Fai retorted, but sounding more perplexed with the illogical request than truly angry or annoyed. Kurogane took a breath and tried to marshall more arguments. If he miscalculated, or if the cliffside decided to get in on the crumbling act, he could throw open the door and probably jump out in time but Fai wouldn't be able to pull the same stunt with a baby in his arms. And if one of the rear tires went off the edge, Fai's weight might in fact make an unfortunate difference in their fate, light though he looked. Besides all this, the baby's noise was increasing and one of the prime rules for passengers was always not to distract the driver even under auspicious circumstances, and these circumstances were nowhere near auspicious.

"I just can't. I can't have her in the car when I do this," was what actually fell out of Kurogane's mouth when he opened it, and then he clapped his traitorous lips shut and glared down into blue eyes because he couldn't think of anything further to say.

Fai just stared back at him for a while. Ten seconds, maybe more; long enough for dark eyes to see confusion and fruitless attempts to understand and some strange, nameless pain cross that pale face. Kurogane stood outside the car, his body shielding the occupants from the worst of the wind and increasing snow, hands biting down against the metal frame through his gloves and waiting with a strange sort of desperation. The baby wasn't his, but the baby was his for now. His to keep safe, and he couldn't do it with her in the car.

"I don't know why you think you can't, but you're going to have to try," Fai finally said, and his voice was soft enough that Kurogane was surprised he could hear it so clearly. It was as calm and steady as Kurogane was not, and seeped into the edges of him like warmth from a blanket thrown over his shoulders. The words came out slowly but there was no condescension in them; only the faint hesitation of a man edging out over uncertain footing. "I'll never make it back to Elk Ridge in the dark with snow coming down and a baby in my arms. If you go over the edge it's not going to matter that she and I didn't go over with you. We're still not surviving."

Contrary to what he was saying, Fai then reached down and unbuckled his seatbelt. But instead of reaching over to lift up the baby, he swung his legs out of the car and then hopped out as Kurogane automatically stepped back to make room for him.

"Go really slow," Fai instructed, snugging his hood up and fastening a button just under his chin. "I'll stay right by the car and watch the edge, and I'll let you know if you get too close." He gave the Audi's body a couple of solid thwacks with one hand to demonstrate the proposed warning system and then smiled up at Kurogane. The taller found the expression to be more reassuring and heartening than it had any right to be, considering whom it was coming from, but didn't waste time examining this disparity between his expectations and his reality. The baby was still in the car fretting to herself, but Fai's was admittedly a better plan than having the passengers freezing on the side of the road or remaining in the back of the car, doing nothing but adding to the tension. Logic finally won out over gut (_guilt_) and the dark-haired man gave in with a nod.

"I'll cut back this way and then pull forward," he said, gesturing to add clarity, and then got back into the car. The infant was fussing harder and working her way up to an all-out cry at being temporarily abandoned - again, the poor mite - and Kurogane twisted in his seat to reach back toward the laundry basket.

"Hey Princess, pipe down for a minute, all right?" he asked. "You're making me nervous." Bracing his feet against the floor, Kurogane stretched back to sneak a hand into the basket to give the infant a little belly-rub through the layers of fabric she was wrapped in, and surprisingly enough she did as requested. Her face had been scrunched up in displeasure but at the jiggle she relaxed, blinked open her eyes and let her last cry taper off into a little rowl instead. He gave her another caress and she squirmed and made a face.

"Yeah, I know. I don't like it either but we're stuck with each other for now, so let's make a deal, okay? I'll take care of you, and you don't make it any harder than it needs to be."

She blinked at him and then blew a raspberry.

"Good enough," he muttered, and then threw the car into reverse. His foot remained hard on the brake while he told himself in no uncertain terms to get a grip, and then he took a deep breath and twisted around to peer out the back window. Fai was a ghostly presence near the gas tank, out of sight unless Kurogane turned the other way in his seat, so he put the man out of his mind and concentrated on slowly and steadily backing the Audi up in a tight curve.

He reversed the car as far as he dared and then stopped, looking over his left shoulder briefly to get a better view of his safety measure. Fai had apparently not fallen off the cliffside, nor had he frozen into a dork-sicle in the middle of the road, but there was no muffled thud-thud or dull reverberations through the body. Gritting his teeth, Kurogane committed his faith - and potentially their lives - to the blond and edged the car back further, now looking forward to judge how much more room he might need instead of staring anxiously behind.

There was still no signal from Fai, but once Kurogane judged that he had room enough he put the car into drive and hauled the steering wheel around, straightening the car out so that it was nearly cross-ways over both lanes. A quick glance was thrown over one shoulder to make sure he didn't mow the blond down, and then Kurogane began backing up again. This time should have been easier since he wasn't heading straight for the edge of the road, but it was still nerve-wracking because he could see Fai right smack in the middle of his rear view mirror. He moved the vehicle slowly enough for a one-legged duck covered in molasses to have been safe from becoming road paté, but he was still uneasy as hell.

Apparently he trusted a duck's survival instincts more than he trusted the hotelier's common sense.

The Audi was now pointed back toward the way it had come. Though he doubted anyone else would be coming down the lonely road at this time of night, Kurogane straightened the vehicle out until it was completely out of the other lane. His foot was firmly on the brake and he'd even begun engaging the parking brake, but when a light vibration shuddered through the car he still stiffened up, clenching the steering wheel so hard he was surprised it didn't dent under his fingers. He glanced out the window but Fai was already opening the rear door and poking his head in.

"Are we done? Even if we're not done can I come back in?" The man's voice aimed at cheerfulness but shivered miserably, and Kurogane felt both amusement and pity.

"No," he deadpanned, and the blond flumped into the car with a laugh.

"Mean old bear," Fai chided, almost stuttering with cold. "Not all of us have shaggy fur and thick layers of fat to keep the cold out."

"Thick layers of _what_?"

Kurogane checked to make sure the parking brake was fully engaged and then turned almost completely around in his seat to fix the blond with a cold hard glare. His weight began with a two, but he was also six-foot five barefoot and could bench press three hundred pounds without worrying about not having a spotter. He could let the comment about shaggy fur pass since he had no illusions about his hair having anything remotely resembling style, but _fat_ did not have any place in his life except in getting trimmed off his meat and thrown into the trash. He wasn't really all that vain about his muscles - the pre-shower flexes before the mirror were just to make sure he wasn't letting himself go, thanks - but he wasn't about to let anyone accuse him of layering a sleek coat of blubber over them either. Fat meant lazy and careless, and Kurogane did _not_ do lazy and careless.

"Thick layers of wool and cotton?" amended Fai, but his manner was cheeky instead of repentant or fearful, and the adjustment only earned him a tightening of the frown already knitted over narrowed eyes and an impolite-sounding grumble. The blond attempted to pout, but had to give it up after only a brief effort because his teeth were chattering too violently for him to maintain the expression. Kurogane felt a tiny stab of guilt at having made the man stand out in the wind and snow while he chatted with their charge.

"Buckle up," he growled, and then turned around to get the car going back up the mountain. It wasn't exactly an effusion of gratitude, but it was better than the "shut up" that had been forming earlier. The heater was already on high but he turned the fan all the way up and ignored the cheers and muffled clapping from the back seat that ensued.

* * *

Kurogane pulled back into the driveway of his home and workplace within an hour of leaving it. He felt like he'd aged ten years.

After driving slowly into the garage and cutting the engine he just sat there a moment, taking in a long, even breath and figuring out what to do next. The drive back had been uneventful but he'd kept himself completely focused on the road instead of letting his mind drift even one millimeter to ponder next steps. The blond in the back, perhaps chastened by his recent misadventures, had stayed uncharacteristically silent and the baby had done her part by obligingly letting the car rock her back to sleep.

He moved somewhat mechanically after a bit, unbuckling himself and getting out of the car. It prompted Fai to follow suit and soon they were back in the pretty much the exact same situation as they'd been before, except that the baby had woken up, gotten a hand free and was trying to stuff one dimpled fist into her mouth. She lay semi-quietly in her doggie bed and laundry basket combination, drooling and mwar-ing around her knuckles. Fai, who'd carried her back inside, knelt by her and then looked up with a complicated expression of a sardonically raised eyebrow, soft look and rueful smile topped off with a breathy laugh and sigh.

"Well, that didn't work out as planned. What now?"

Kurogane spared a moment to roll his eyes at Fai's continued love of stating the obvious, then thought a moment and finally shook his head, unable to think of much to actually _do_. Hindsight offered up the thought that he should have stopped off in Elk Grove and tried to leave the baby - and the blond - at the little clinic. It sounded like an idea good enough to be wistful over, but a second thought on the matter dashed even the misty dream; the clinic was limited in scope and did not operate 24 hours a day besides; he couldn't have left her overnight, much less for two or three days until the road down the mountain was cleared. The police might have been able to find families in the friendly little community that would have been perfectly willing to take in a stray baby, but it wouldn't have sat well with Kurogane. He felt a sort of responsibility for her now (_felt protective and possessive and it __hurt_), and couldn't have just handed her off to some random person and slept easily that night.

Somehow the two blonds seemed like a package deal, and he didn't think long about how he could have dropped Fai off at the lodge and just gone home again with only one stranger in his back seat.

"Call the hospital again. Tell them the road's blocked and there's a storm coming so we'll have to keep the baby with us for at least a few days."

"Here?" Fai asked, looking startled at the thought. He gave a little heave of his palms against his knees and rose to his feet.

"No, the daycare next door," Kurogane replied testily. "Where else?"

"My cabin isn't too much further up the mountain," the blond offered. The taller's immediate reaction was negative and scrawled - _scowled_ - all over his face, but not based on any real reason except that he didn't want to stay at a Fluorite's schmantzy little getaway when he could stay right at home instead. Before he could do much more than twist his mouth at the idea, however, Fai spoke again.

"I have extra beds. All sorts of stuff for weathering unusually long storms, too, like generators - I haven't had to use them before but I know they're well maintained - oh, and a whole wall of firewood, pantry full of water, enough dry and canned food to make a fort, things like that."

The mention of extra beds was given hesitatingly and quickly passed, as if the blond was embarrassed to admit that he knew that it was a good argument for choosing his place over Kurogane's. If he hadn't snuck upstairs he wouldn't have known that there were three bedrooms but only one with any furnishings, and the homeowner's frown knitted a little deeper at the reminder. He had just the one bed and a couch big enough for sitting comfortably but not long enough to stretch out on, and while there was amusement in the idea of forcing Fai to "rough it" it also foretold an unacceptable amount of whining. The three of them riding out the storm at their current location was not exactly ideal.

"I don't have baby stuff of course, but I can finally become your customer," the blond added, rucking back his coat so that he could pat what was probably a wallet tucked into a back pocket. Kurogane automatically glanced down at the gesture and determinedly dragged his eyes right back up once he realized his eyes were tracing the outline of a slim hip. The day had become complicated enough; he didn't need to add solitude-fueled yearnings to the mix. "We'll stuff your car full of diapers and milk and all hole up at my place until the road's clear."

"All of us." It was a simple phrase but fell heavily between them, and Fai's smile turned upside down into a pout, saved from being overly annoying by the flash of real worry in those big blue eyes.

"You're weren't planning to just drop us off at my cabin and leave, were you?"

"Hell no," Kurogane retorted immediately, almost shuddering at the thought of this total incompetent responsible for the safety and well-being of the infant. "Leaving her alone with you would be child abuse."

"Sooo...you're going to drop me off at my cabin and then race the storm back so you can spend three days teaching our little kitty here how to restock shelves?" The little bow of Fai's mouth had turned right side up again and the question was asked with a teasing sort of confidence. The hotelier didn't know how right he was, but he was right, damn him.

Kurogane frowned anew but didn't argue, unable to deny that the care and feeding of an infant was easier the more hands there were on deck. The squirmer at their feet wasn't quite a newborn, but he thought she looked too young to be sleeping through the night just yet. And since she wasn't old enough to crawl around and get into trouble, she also wasn't old enough to entertain herself with a movie or any such thing.

Babies were exhausting.

"I can't just leave the store untended," Kurogane said, making one last effort to avoid becoming Fai's guest. Admittedly, he had no better idea to substitute for the one he was resisting, but his stubborn streaks didn't always go hand in hand with logic and pragmatism. "Sometimes people can't make it into Elk Grove and I'm the only thing between them and starvation or hypothermia."

"You're here twenty four seven, three hundred and sixty five?" Fai asked, one eyebrow cocked dubiously. "You never get sick or go see a movie?"

"I leave sometimes," the shopkeeper snapped, feeling unaccountably defensive about his lifestyle all of a sudden. "But I'm never gone for more than a day without giving advance notice; I can't just take off on a whim. I have responsibilities." He couldn't help adding a bit of bite to the last word, thinking as he did that a Fluorite wouldn't know what it meant if it didn't have the word "fiscal" in front of it. The little jab didn't ruffle or rile the blond however. If anything he only got a little more thoughtful.

"So...what happens if someone drags their poor frozen body to your general store while you're out? Up creek sans paddle?"

"There's a storage shed 'round the side," Kurogane explained with a jerk of his head toward the front door. "I keep emergency supplies in there and a way to get in touch with the Elk Grove police; people can take what they need or even shelter there temporarily. They leave money if they can, and I don't leave so much stuff in there that I can't eat the loss if they don't."

"And the reason you can't just leave notes on your door and in the shed explaining that you're away for the duration of the storm on a humanitarian life-preserving mission is...?"

Fai withstood the glare he was subjected to admirably, despite all Kurogane's efforts to burn a hole through the smartass's forehead with his eyeballs and ire.

"Fine," Kurogane sighed.

"Canned food fort for three?" Fai asked happily, while the baby at their feet gave up on trying to eat her fist and started mewling for attention.

"_No_," the taller replied in the same tone that men used with particularly dense dogs or stubborn children. _Bad Fluorite. No forts._ "I'll babysit _her_. You entertain yourself."

"Mean old bear. I'm providing room and board and buying diapers; can't you unbend a little?"

"_Awrlah._"

"Speaking of buying disapers," Kurogane persisted, ignoring the idiocy and trying to keep them on track. "I'll get some boxes and you start pulling things off the shelves. We'll need enough for ten days-"

"Ten days?!"

"_Umyaw_."

"...just in case," Kurogane finished with poorly feigned patience. "These storms usually blow over in three days, but they can last longer. How can you not know this? You've had a place up here for years."

"Well yes, but I don't live here; I just visit. I never bothered to memorize weather patterns."

"_Aaawah? Aamph!_"

It made sense and even in his own mind Kurogane knew that he ought to concede the point and just move them all along, but he was stressed out and grouchy at the idea of babysitting these two strangers through a storm. (_Uncomfortable in his own skin because someone was crawling under it, getting past defenses that had always been adequate before._) The idea of being trapped with them through the storm, living with them under one roof like a little family, disturbed him. Disturbed him right up the wall, across the ceiling and set him down grumpy as hell on the other side.

He felt off-balance, uncertain even about whom he felt the most uncertain about; Fai or the baby. The baby was obvious. Fai...not so much. Not at all, in fact. And so Kurogane found himself antagonistic, not just irritable.

"Typical," he growled, calling up everything he could remember to hate about the city and the people that filled it, as if trying to remind himself why he hated this man. The problem was that he didn't hate the man. Another problem was that he hadn't quite realized this yet and gave his mouth free reign to attack, as if subconsciously hoping to make _Fai_ hate _him_ so he needn't expend so much effort on making sure they didn't get along so well.

"Of what?" Fai queried, blinking in honest puzzlement.

"_Aaawr!_" cried the baby from the floor, and then suddenly they were all talking practically over each other.

"Of a city-bred brat too used to-"

"Whoa, when was your last rabies-"

"_AwwwrrrAAAAAAAAA!_"

The two adults had both raised their voices a bit but the baby between them suddenly let loose with a piercing wail that stopped them both cold. The little mite was clearly upset at something, perhaps being ignored or the mounting tension in the air, and far more insistent about putting her own wants forward than Kurogane was about giving Fai an earful or than Fai was about defending himself. The dark-haired man reacted first, crouching down for a moment to pluck the fusser out of her makeshift bassinet and nearly colliding with Fai on the way up as the blond belatedly attempted to get in on the act.

"Hey there. You're fine," Kurogane soothed, tucking the baby close and adding the rumble of his voice to the light bounces and pats he was giving her. The rhythm and repetitiveness of simple lullabies were even more effective at calming upset infants, but he wasn't about to break into song with an audience capable of comment. "Calm down, Princess."

"Precious," Fai reminded him, possibly trying to be helpful. He was neither too chipper nor sullen; more uncertain and unhappy and yet somehow still persistently _there_ and close.

"That sounds stupid," the shopkeeper grumbled, but none too harshly. He was relieved that the other man seemed as willing as he himself was to ignore and step past their almost-fight. The scathing commentary on modern, microwave-minded civilization that he'd been about to unleash had been stupid, even childish and he wanted to forget about it. Fai might be a Fluorite but so far he hadn't really done, said or _been_ anything that actually offended Kurogane. The man was chatty and rather too bubbly and a damn sight too pretty but he hadn't deserved the thankfully aborted tirade.

The baby hadn't gotten upset enough to break into an all-out tantrum and had calmed down fairly quickly as well. She snuggled contentedly against Kurogane now and just made a few last grumbles as if trying to make sure the men fully understood that they had erred and she was much displeased.

"She's got little crowns on her pj's and is demanding as hell," Kurogane observed dryly. "Princess is fine."

"Well if we're just making names up, let's call her Kitten. Kitty for short." The baby yawned and made a little mewling noise at the end of it, causing Fai to laugh and gesture to her with a flourish. "See? It's perfect."

_It's stupid. You're stupid. Everything that falls out of your mouth is stupid and __I'm__ stupid for letting it get to me so much._

Kurogane closed his eyes and sighed, biting all these thoughts back and reexamining their plan, looking - hoping - for holes. They needed a place big enough for them to weather the storm without stepping on each other. Fai's cabin fit the bill, unfortunately. The baby needed looking after, which Kurogane could do and Fai could help out with. She also needed supplies, which Kurogane could provide and Fai could pay for. The baby herself even provided something quite as necessary as the other things; enough distraction to keep Kurogane from killing his proposed host.

Oddly enough, when you lumped the three of them together, things balanced out fairly neatly.

"Call her whatever you want," the shopkeeper finally said. "Just stop calling me bear-things, and go get-"

"Aw, but it's perfect. Big growly grizzly bear holding a cute mewy mini kitty," Fai interrupted with a ridiculous smile, cutting off Kurogane's second attempt to get the supply run started.

"And a stupid long-legged stork who can't seem to remember that we have more important things to do than _stand around talking_ while a storm blows in," growled Kurogane. "Go. Get. Diapers."

Fai laughed at him but then turned and started scanning the aisles, so Kurogane didn't have to put the baby down in order to pummel the man into compliance.

"Back half of the store, third aisle from the far wall," the store owner directed, and then began walking away himself in order to retrieve boxes. Ten days' worth of baby supplies was not something that would fit into a couple of paper bags. He disappeared into the storage section of the building and rummaged up some cardboard. He should have put the baby back down into the doggie bed to free up his hands, but hindsight was an uncooperative bitch at the best of times. Kurogane consumed a few extra minutes breaking down the pile of boxes into flat forms that he could carry back one-handed, grumping out loud to the tot who seemed to find him as amusing as Fai did. She squealed and awrr'd and eventually teased a fond smile from him since no one was looking.

He ate up some more time going upstairs to pack a bag for himself, clothes and toiletries and a few other odds and ends, and by the time he was ready to return to the shop front nearly half an hour had passed. Balancing a squirmy bundle in the crook of one elbow, keeping a duffel bag hiked up on one shoulder and hauling an awkward handful of boxes took a fair amount of concentration, and Kurogane did not notice the pile of goods Fai had amassed until he was almost on top of it.

"What. The hell."

"No?" Fai queried, with a reappearance of the pout. He'd been standing hipshot over the pile with a proud smile like he was playing king of the mountain. At Kurogane's expression, however, the hands on his hips fell away and disappeared behind his back like those of a contrite schoolboy.

"You were planning to pour her a bowl of Cheerios tomorrow morning?" Kurogane asked in exasperation, propping the flattened boxes against the counter and letting the duffel slide off his arm, then toeing a gallon of whole milk. One of three such bottles.

"Well, no...but she needs milk, right? And I thought the Cheerios would be fun for her to snack on," Fai rationalized, and then trailed off as he looked at the other man's expression. "So...no go on bear-face pancakes either?"

The infant gummed Kurogane's shirtfront and then wobbled her head back to gaze up at him with trusting, hazy blue eyes. He patted her and nodded.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "I'll protect you."

"That's not fair," Fai protested, though he also laughed. "You knew I didn't know much about babies. A little more detailed direction wouldn't have come amiss, you know."

"Anything," the taller corrected. "You don't know _anything_ about babies. Leave the diapers. Put everything else back. No, scratch that. Hold the baby. I'll sort it out."

This exchange of duties was met with relief and approval, and the blond immediately pranced forward with his hands outstretched. He was a little overeager - or had terrible depth perception - and ended up entirely within Kurogane's private space, sweater soft and warm against tanned knuckles, pale hands settling lightly on the other man's arms to steady himself as he brought himself to a halt. Fai tipped his face up with a little twist to get his long bangs out of his face, and inexplicably just stayed like that a moment, looking up and smiling and just...looking up and smiling.

Before Kurogane could get too uncomfortable (_or have too many disturbing thoughts because the man wasn't just too damn __pretty__, he was inexplicably __tempting_) the blond dropped his gaze and hands to the infant between them. Hesitant as he had been before, Fai seemed to pick things up very quickly and now he deftly slipped slender fingers under the baby's armpits and lifted her away. It should have been a relief to have the transfer made so simply but Kurogane just stood there a moment, watching and struggling and not moving away like he'd planned. Too many things were distracting him, and one of them was the fact that he was finding so many things distracting in the first place.

The feel of one of Fai's hands worming its way between the infant's body and his. A sharp pang of regret and possessiveness at that warm little bundle being lifted away. Trying not to remember and compare. Being impressed despite himself at how naturally Fai was taking to nanny duties. Wondering what shampoo it was - and it had to be the shampoo, and not anything about the blond himself - that made Kurogane want to lean forward as the shorter man leaned in; press closer and _definitely not nuzzle what the __hell__ was he thinking_?

As soon as the baby was out of his arms, Kurogane moved away quickly enough that it was almost as if he was jerking himself back. He didn't stay to determine whether or not Fai noticed and turned another one of those puzzled, pondering looks on him, instead stalking away to begin putting away almost everything the well-meaning ignoramus had pulled off the shelves. Fai had mentioned not needing anything for himself and having a goodly stockpile against possible storms, so Kurogane assumed that everything in the heap of groceries was meant for the baby and shook his head or sighed over almost everything he picked up.

Whole milk. Cheerios. Understandable, he supposed. At least the dork hadn't grabbed Cocoa Puffs. Enriched white bread. Peanut butter. Strawberry jelly. Marshmallows. God save the poor mite; had Fai been planning to make PBJs and s'mores? He didn't find any chocolate bars or graham crackers, and when he came upon the ripe bananas and yogurt he realized that Fai had ransacked his store for everything soft enough to be gummed instead of chewed. There was an attempt at logic behind the pile of infant-unfriendly foods and the next time Kurogane shook his head, there was a little twitch at the side of his mouth that could have been a smile.

The items that took the longest to sort out were the jars of baby food. What he thought might be random piles of little glass jars turned out to be individual meal towers in ten neat rows. After blinking at them for a while Kurogane realized that Fai was attentive and observant and really, really clueless. The shopkeeper had stated that babies needed more than three meals per day, and the blond had apparently translated that bit of information into "babies eat like hobbits". There were two breakfasts in each row consisting of cereal and a fruit, followed by two lunches of a random meat and vegetables and another fruit. There was a single fruit jar following the first four towers which seemed to be for afternoon tea, and then two dinner piles that rotated chicken-and-noodles, beef-and-veggies and turkey dinner. Plus the three gallons of milk and other groceries.

The perfect baby food meal plan for a ravenously hungry baby about six to eight months older than the one Fai was holding, plus enough snacks for two or three older siblings.

Kurogane put it all back except for the jars of fruit and squash, just in case the baby proved to be old enough to start on mashed foods. He also kept one of the boxes of infant cereal on the same principle, though he was betting she was still at the formula-only stage. The diapers and wipes stayed as well, being of exactly the same variety as the ones Kurogane had already pulled off the shelves, further proving that Fai was at least paying attention. One extra box of diapers was added because obviously Fai had no idea how often babies needed changing. After he filled a box full of bottles, baby shampoo, rubber-coated spoons and an assortment of little odds and ends, he deemed their pile of supplies good.

Watching Fai's eyebrows do acrobatics as he rang everything up was rather amusing. A Fluorite hardly needed to worry about expenses at this level, but his ignorance about babies extended to how pricey their supplies could get.

"I _should_ call you Caviar," Fai laughingly said to the baby in his arms. "You're expensive, Little Kitty."

Kurogane made no comments of his own, only watching the man do a sort of waltz back and forth with their kitten-princess-whatever in front of the counter. The latest modification of his impression of Fai strengthened; the man knew absolutely jack and diddly squat about infants but was eager and able to learn. After having watched Kurogane, Fai was mimicking the way the taller had held and patted the baby and becoming more used to it with each lightly bouncing step. She seemed to appreciate the effort and put up no fusses, only gumming at her knuckles and occasionally lifting her head to take a wobbly look around while Fai nosed at her temple and smiled.

Kurogane found the sight so charming that he wanted to punch himself.

"All right, pay up," he said gruffly, snapping out of his absent-minded (_admiring, appreciative and enchanted_) eyeballing and folding together the last box top with more force than was technically necessary.

"Hm? Oh sure," Fai replied, and then danced over to him. Kurogane expected the infant to be handed off, but instead the blond swung his hip around and smiled sweetly up.

"Do you mind?" Fai asked, while Kurogane blinked and refused to comprehend what the blond was obviously asking. "My hands are full."

"Right back pocket," he added, when the shopkeeper did not move.

Kurogane's options were rather narrow at that point; accept the invitation to basically cop a feel or politely decline with a sharp, swift blow to that empty head. Sadly, the presence of the infant did not make the latter option feasible, and he had to settle for something in between pickpocketing and pugilism. It took him a moment to find words and another moment to make sure his voice didn't come out so loudly and abruptly that their little ward would burst into tears.

"Give me the baby and get your own damn wallet," he finally said, grinding the words out slowly.

Fai's sugary little smile twisted and changed into something a little more rueful and real before disappearing behind a ridiculous pout.

"But she's soft and warm and so cuddly," he replied mournfully. "I don't want to let her go."

_And __I__ don't want to grab your ass,_ thought Kurogane. A little voice in the back of his mind immediately contested that point, but he steadfastly ignored it. He didn't voice the thought - or the follow-up - because while he was certain that the blond was teasing him deliberately, he didn't want to say so and give Fai an opening to protest his innocence and perhaps add "naughty" to the "Mister Grumpy Grizzly Bear" nickname.

"You can hold her until your arms fall off when we're at your place," Kurogane said instead, and reached for the infant.

"You'll need your hands free to ring me up anyway," Fai protested, and twirled to keep the little girl out of reach. And his rear end turned toward Kurogane.

"I'll put her back in the basket."

"She might cry."

"She _might_ cry, but I _will_ punch you if you keep arguing with me over every little thing," Kurogane growled, rolling his eyes at how they couldn't seem to do even the simplest thing without getting into a verbal tussle over it. And yet, while he was getting irritated and annoyed all over again, it was markedly different than before. He didn't even bother telling himself anymore that he looked down on the blond for a spoiled, stupid or self-centered idiot; the man was a dork but had more good qualities than bad, and had only shown silly sides instead of dark ones thus far.

If the hotelier had truly been the rotten-souled, black-hearted city sort that Kurogane had been telling himself Fai was, they wouldn't be fighting over who would get to hold the baby right now. The hotelier would have treated the little mite like a distasteful burden to be gotten rid of as hastily as possible. He would have ordered Kurogane about like a servant and very likely pitched fits or threatened legal action when the shopkeeper didn't immediately jump on command. The child would have been dumped on Kurogane like so much garbage and all of the focus would have been on getting Fai to his cabin as quickly as possible so that he could get started on whatever it was that he'd come up here to do; work or play or just stare out the window with a drink in his hand while quoting Hemingway to himself.

Instead, Fai was doing his level best to be friendly and helpful. At least, as friendly and helpful as possible while not doing anything that Kurogane asked - told - him to do. And instead of Kurogane actually doing everything he could think of to kick these two out of his presence and life as quickly and efficiently as possible, he was bickering back and forth with the blond like he was an old friend, comfortable enough to be rough with, close enough not to have to be careful with.

He'd wanted to keep these two unexpected intrusions at arm's length or more, but realities had to be faced. The three of them were stuck with each other for now, and Kurogane gave up on using shallow snap judgments like shields to keep the two fair-haired strangers out of his life (_thoughts, interest, heart_). It wasn't working anyway. The infant had somehow or the other gotten him at least halfway wrapped around her chubby little finger already, and Fai was standing in his personal space and shining a big brilliant smile up at him while holding the baby securely. Stubbornly.

"I think you might kill me as soon as I give her up," Fai noted, grinning cheekily up at him now and refusing to give up his living shield. Any hopes of her cooperation in the matter went unfulfilled; the baby seemed perfectly content to be the hotelier's hostage and showed no signs of spitting up or shrieking. Seeing no end to the debate, Kurogane gave in before Fai could start teasing him about being _too_ unwilling to go pocket-picking.

"Fine," he grumbled, nipping a sleek leather wallet out of Fai's pants as quickly as he could. "But you're buying some alcohol, too. If I'm going to be sitting out a storm with _two_ high-maintenance babies to deal with I'm going to need a drink." He tossed the wallet onto the counter by the register and stalked away to fortify their supplies with a bottle or two.

"Drunken babysitting?" Fai asked when he returned, voice still somewhat teasing but also sounding honestly surprised. "Bad bear." He gave a nod when Kurogane held up the first credit card he'd come across in the wallet and continued eyeing the shopkeeper wonderingly.

"I do not get _drunk_," Kurogane replied with asperity. He'd inherited a cast iron liver from his mother and could have put a bad dent into his entire inventory of alcohol without suffering much effect except perhaps becoming a bit more mellow. The tolerance had proved to be a curse of sorts during a time of his life when he'd wanted very, very badly to be insensible to the world but he'd come to be thankful for it in the end. "One drink isn't going to make me clumsy. It'll just hopefully make _you_ a little more bearable."

"You mean you're going to try to get _me_ drunk instead? Naughty bear."

Kurogane cursed to himself as he failed to avoid the "naughty" nickname. He did not grace the accusation with a reply and wordlessly stepped back around with the wallet folded up again and a dark foreboding budding in his chest. Fai swung his hip around, confirming the taller's suspicion and drawing out a much put-upon sigh from the shopkeeper. Not feeling very sanguine about the possibility of winning a second round of an argument he'd lost once already, Kurogane replaced the wallet with the same economy of movement he'd used in removing it and kept his eyes averted so he wouldn't see the knowing, teasing grin that he was sure was on Fai's face.

"Wait here while I load up the car," he said, stooping to stack a box on top of another, but then straightened back up again empty handed as a thought struck him. "And when I say 'here' I mean this room," he added pointedly, one eyebrow up and one finger jabbing downward at the floor.

"Or else I'll feature in the next 'When Bears Attack'. I understand," Fai replied with an exaggerated nod, and then gave a rueful laugh. "And when I say 'I understand', I mean you're terrible for casting that in my face."

"Don't invade if you don't want to get captured," advised the shopkeeper, and then walked away with two boxes of baby sundries. One more trip sufficed to gather up the remaining supplies as well as his overnight bag, and Fai followed him with their little ward once again tucked into her laundry basket and a stream of chatter flowing from his mouth. He escaped the noise for a minute or two when he left the car to do a final lock-check and to leave a note of explanation in the emergency supply shed, but Fai chirped up as soon as he returned.

"Come on, admit it; it'll be fun," the blond cajoled as Kurogane settled himself behind the wheel. "Think of it as a vacation."

"Vacation?" the dark-haired man asked dryly, putting worlds of doubt into his tone.

"Well, an adventure then. Unexpected, unpredictable, a little bit of danger and a good bit of fun."

"I'll give you everything except for the 'fun' bit," Kurogane replied, sparing another sigh while backing the car up - again, and hopefully the trip would be uneventful this time - and pausing in the driveway to close the garage door remotely. "Taking care of a strange baby in a strange cabin with a strange stranger is not my idea of fun."

"Oh come on," Fai laughed brightly. "I'm not _that_ bad."

Kurogane threw the car into park and twisted around in his seat so that he could fix the blond - still smiling but also blinking at him now in surprise at this sudden scrutiny - with a long look. He took in blue eyes and cheeks lightly pinked in the cold air framed with fluffy hair and fur, remembered how he'd jumped to judge upon finding out who the stranger was, and thought of how he'd had to revise his opinions as he'd gotten to know what the man was actually like.

"Yeah, you're all right," he admitted after a moment. No cheers or cheeky commentary burst forth from the back seat as he put the car back in gear and began navigating his way up to Valley Road. It seemed that his sudden about-face had taken Fai by surprise, and Kurogane decided that the admission had been worth it for the few minutes of silence it bought him.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite setting out on their second car trip on a much better foot than before, Kurogane navigated the narrow road up to Fai's cabin with increasing trepidation. He had plenty of gas and the road conditions were as good as he could have expected; it was not the journey that he was uneasy about, but the destination. He thought of his sparsely furnished but familiar little home with a fondness that it had hardly ever called up in the past few years as he wondered what his temporary shelter for the next few days would be like.

Fai was subdued, perhaps still suffering under the awful impression their first nearly disastrous outing together had made. He occasionally chirped up to make sure Kurogane didn't accidentally take a side road he shouldn't or answer a question about how many more miles there were to go, but otherwise remained largely silent. The laundry basket's occupant also refrained from making many peeps and indeed seemed to fall asleep during the first mile. The lack of noise might have made Kurogane ever so slightly anxious, save that glances in the rear view mirror showed him Fai obsessively staring into the basket.

It was reassuring, but on the flip side all this silence left plenty of room for the imagination to build an absolutely hideous mental image of their destination. By the time they were half way there, Kurogane was dreading the possibility of having to wait out the storm surrounded by walls with more pop art than paint visible and every corner stuffed full of modern sculptures with the mania of someone who collected for the sake of collecting instead of actual art appreciation. Before he could convince himself that there was a five hundred gallon shark tank in the living room decorated with brass mermaids holding up the Fluorite hotel logo, Kurogane glanced into the rear view mirror again.

Fai looked up at the same instant, caught his gaze and smiled.

Besides making Kurogane want to punch himself again the little exchange of eye contact had this effect at least; it reminded him that his first impressions were not always to be trusted, at least when it came to this person. He'd realized that the stranger was a Fluorite and immediately extended every one of his deeply-rooted prejudices against so-called "civilization" to him, but had needed to revise his opinion in fairly short order. It was entirely possible - plausible, even - that the cabin of his nightmares would never materialize and instead he'd find himself in a fairly regular sort of abode, not home but homey enough. He glanced back again at Fai.

Of course, it was also entirely possible that he'd walk into the place and find himself faced with a wall covered entirely in plush animals. He would just have to wait and see.

His patience was rewarded with the reassuring sight of a perfectly normal looking - albeit _huge_ - log cabin at the end of the drive. Valley Road terminated at Fai's property, spilling out into a large clearing surrounded by evergreens. From high above, the clearing probably looked like a round bottle, with the road forming a long, narrow neck and the cabin sitting snugly at the bottom. Kurogane knew from randomly overheard gossip and the friendly chatter of the staff who maintained the place in the owner's absence that the property ran acres and acres beyond the building. For one reason or another, however, Fai had chosen not to touch the remainder of his land. He built no secondary cabins, did not set up any hunting or fishing sheds, and dug out no artificial tributaries. He hired a small army of groundskeepers to keep the fire hazard risk level at a minimum - they put a goodly dent in Kurogane's supply of beer most months - but otherwise left nature to do her own landscaping.

Kurogane didn't know what Fai did with all that land. He'd never wished to know and the staff that visited his shop were possibly as ignorant as he was of their employer's habits, since their orders were always to clear out the day before the man came to visit his little retreat. He might have been a Fluorite but he had one thing in common with most of his neighbors at least; he desired solitude. Kurogane had never heard of the staff preparing for a large party or even a single guest; they only ever mentioned "Mister Fluorite" and their preparations were always spoken of in terms of a single person's needs, and simple ones at that.

Now that he thought about it, he couldn't recall the housekeepers bemoaning how they had to separate candies by color or make sure the jacuzzi held exactly three thousand jasmine flowers either. They just made sure everything was fully stocked, well-maintained and sparkly clean. Kurogane suddenly found himself curious to see the inside of this sprawling but sane-human-being style building and to see how Fai acted when "at home".

He glanced back to ask whether he ought to pull up around the side of the cabin or what, but he found Fai busily tapping at a smartphone. Before he could do much more than try to catch the blond's attention with a low "oi," Fai looked up expectantly toward the house with one last thumb-tap. Ruddy eyes followed that bright gaze and blinked as lights suddenly flared on, both inside and out. A little carriage lamp over the front door had been lit already, providing a beacon in the darkness, but now the entire front was illuminated to reveal a wrap-around porch. A series of lamp posts off to the side flickered to life as well, delineating a driveway that led to a wide garage.

One dark eyebrow went up, and then its mate followed as the garage door slowly slid up.

"Huh," Kurogane remarked thoughtfully.

"Does Mister Bear not come out of his cave often enough to keep up with modern technology?" Fai teased.

"Why would I need something like that?" Kurogane growled. He could see the sense and convenience of having such a thing, but he had enough time on his hands that he tended to do things the old-fashioned way. He chopped his own wood, popped corn on the stove and only used his phone to make calls. "I've got two arms and two legs and I'm not too lazy to use them."

"It's not laziness," Fai protested. "Look, now we won't have to thaw our little kitty out once we get her inside."

Kurogane couldn't think of any argument against that, so he didn't reply at all, instead moving on to a related topic.

"You have an app for turning on the heat remotely too?" he asked as he edged the car forward toward the garage.

"No need. My housekeeper would have left the heater on. It should be a nice, comfy sixty eight inside."

A few hours earlier, Kurogane would have found all sorts of scornful comments crowding the forefront of his mind. Leaving the heat on when there was no one home seemed like a sinful waste of energy, but with a baby in the back seat - and a new and improved opinion of the cabin's owner - he could appreciate it as a convenience instead of a ridiculous luxury. Two grown men could have easily kept their coats on while waiting for the place to warm up, but their tiny guest would need to be stripped down for her next diaper change and she definitely would not appreciate her little toes getting frostbitten.

The garage looked to be able to hold four cars with comfort even with all the shelves and cabinets and piles of boxes crowding every wall, but only housed one SUV. Kurogane pulled in off to the side a bit but left himself plenty of walking space and hopped out quickly while Fai tapped his phone again to close the garage door behind them. The dark-haired man opened up the back door while the blond squirmed to get his phone back in his pocket, and found himself faced with an impish little smile.

"Aw, country bear has city manners," Fai practically cooed. "Thank you."

"If I had 'city manners' I would have shot you and tossed your body outside," Kurogane retorted, and then further attempted to defend himself from a charge of chivalry. "I'm opening the door for the baby, not you."

"In that case you're on the wrong side of the car."

_Damn it._ Kurogane scowled and Fai smiled until the door was slammed in his face. When Kurogane opened up the other side of the car the baby was mewing, probably woken up by the loud noise, and Fai was laughing gaily as if he'd been affectionately teased instead of insulted and ignored. Leaving his baggage and the supplies in the car for now, the taller scooped up the infant and trailed after the homeowner as doors were unlocked and more lights flicked on.

The garage connected to a tiled room that seemed to serve as a laundry room, storage area and huge walk-in coat closet combined. Fai did not stop to shed his coat but led the way through a short hallway and into a living area that was so large that it seemed to explode out before them. Kurogane looked this way and that, measuring with his eyes, and realized that nearly half of the ground floor was one open space, broken up only by half-walls, support beams and a few strategically placed load-bearing walls disguised as bookshelves. The massive room was broken up into sections by the half-walls and bookshelves and further differentiated with specific color schemes and purposeful furnishings, but it was all harmonious.

The color scheme was muted and well-suited to the location; oatmeal and cream served as backdrops for deep browns evocative of bark and rich soil, mossy greens and muted grey-blues. There were splashes of brighter hues here and there; a tomato-red cushion, a glass vase in brilliant greens and gold, a knitted blanket in a riot of jewel tones, but they somehow fit naturally into the overall scheme like bright berries on a snow-covered bush.

He didn't see a single garish piece of pop art or needlessly naked statue. In point of fact the only artwork visible were a few texture pieces made of natural materials and a series of large photographs showcasing local landscapes; the lake in summer with its shores carpeted in wildflowers, snowy mountaintops with sunlight shattering on the icy peaks, and a massive panorama set over a large fireplace showcasing a ridge of evergreens backed by misty blue sky.

It was definitely an expensively decorated place, but it was tasteful and unpretentious and Kurogane found himself impressed, surprised, and very much relieved. He also found himself being watched expectantly, and when he caught the homeowner's gaze Fai chirped up.

"My getaway," the blond said, gesturing theatrically and grinning but watching the taller man with keen blue eyes. "What do you think?"

"Not bad," Kurogane understated as he lightly bounced and patted the baby to keep her quiet, and it earned him a light laugh.

"'Not bad'?" Fai asked plaintively. "I think it rates a little better than _that_."

"I'm not here to do an article for Cabins of the Rich and Famous," the taller growled gruffly. "Get your praise from someone else."

"We've never had anyone up here except staff, and they're not very likely to critique the place to their employer's face," Fai replied with a shrug. Ruddy eyes were blinked in surprise and the shopkeeper looked plainly puzzled at the idea of his being the very first guest to set foot in the ridiculously spacious cabin.

"We?" he asked, just to be asking something instead of standing and staring blankly while patting a baby on the butt. While he was now willing to admit that Fai was nothing like what he thought a Fluorite would be like, he still held to the notion that the man loved attention and socializing. The blond had chatted up his cab driver all the way up to Kurogane's shop, attached himself to Kurogane on sight, and even blabbed at the baby. The shopkeeper couldn't quite reconcile these memories with the idea that Fai would have come up here just to sit around in his cabin all by himself.

"My brother and I," the blond answered, pulling Kurogane's thoughts back to the here and now.

"Is he-" he began, but was cut off abruptly by Fai doing a little twirl and announcing the beginning of the grand tour in a bright, cheerful tone. He'd only meant to ask if the brother was as much of a bird-brained blabbermouth as the Fluorite currently in residence, but as he began following and making note of important appliances, he wondered if he'd been misunderstood. He might have seemed as if he were about to ask a personal question that Fai wanted to avoid, for instance. While Kurogane rarely indulged idle curiosity in the personal business of strangers, Fai - who was himself much more inquisitive and chatty - might have thought otherwise.

"...bathroom over there - you don't go in the woods like a _wild_ bear, right? - and the linen closet..."

Fai wasn't as bad as he'd thought, but he was still part of a large and powerful family that generated as much gossip as it did revenue. There were probably more complexities and complexes there than Kurogane wanted to ever have to think about. Even siblings born and raised in a good old-fashioned family with wholesome notions and healthy discipline often had problems getting along; who knew how tangled relationships could get in a family such as the Fluorites. It was possible that Fai and his brother had little more than co-ownership of the cabin in common, and if that was the case, Kurogane could understand the blond not wanting to talk much of his sibling.

"...and down this hall are the guest rooms..."

A poor sibling relationship answered the question of why Fai's brother hadn't come up, but it didn't explain the mystery of his being the first person unrelated to and unaffiliated with the Fluorite empire to set foot in the place. Kurogane was shown three spacious guest rooms all neatly fitted out and told that another hallway on the other side of the cabin had three similar rooms; lack of space was definitely not the issue.

"...whichever one you want, or be like Goldilocks and try each one," Fai said with a laugh. "You look more like Papa Bear though. If-"

"I'll put her in the first room," Kurogane said abruptly, interrupting the non-stop flow of words. "It's closest to the bathroom and kitchen."

"Makes sense," his host agreed affably. "What room do you want?"

"Same one. Best way to make sure I hear her as soon as she wakes up."

Fai puzzled over this a moment, blond head tilted over one shoulder and blue eyes fixed on the other man's face. Apparently he spent the moment visualizing the sleeping arrangements, because his next act was to question them.

"What if you roll over and squish her?" the blond asked, with an anxious crinkle of his brow.

"I won't," Kurogane replied succinctly and probably unsatisfactorily. He didn't feel like explaining how he tended not to move at all while asleep and the fact that he knew from experience that he'd remain at least partly aware of the baby's presence and state even while unconscious. Fai would just have to trust him on this. Either that or volunteer to be the one to sleep with the baby.

To cut off further argument, he leaned in slightly and shifted the baby off of his shoulder, preparing to hand her off.

"Here, you wanted to hold her. Watch her for me while I unload the car." He'd hardly needed to say the words; Fai had magically melted out of his coat and closed what little gap remained between them almost as soon as Kurogane had moved. A bright smile replaced the worried little pout and the shopkeeper almost snorted at the way the blond suddenly looked like a kid being handed a Christmas present.

Fai started up a conversation with the baby as Kurogane made his escape back to the garage. The few words that made it to the taller's man's ears gave him the impression that the infant was going to be given another tour, this one a little less focused on simple necessities and more on the embellishments that were beyond the appreciation of "back woods bears living in caves".

When he returned with the makeshift bassinet and his bag, he found the baby being shown around to various knickknacks, given a bit of background on each, and told not to gum this book or that figurine because it wasn't tasty for babies. When he set down the first couple of boxes on the heavy oak table in the dining room, he heard the baby talking back in little rowls and awrs, with Fai's vocabulary degenerated to baby talk nearly as unintelligible as the actual baby's talking. By the time he had all the supplies out of the car and had shed his own coat and boots, she'd upgraded to fussy little snuffles that were almost drowning out Fai's soft, anxious crooning.

After settling the last box of supplies on the kitchen counter, Kurogane walked over to one of the square pillars bracketing the entrance and leaned against it, just watching for a moment. Fai had the infant cradled against his chest as before, her head near his left shoulder. He was moving constantly, pacing across the wood floor in slow, dancing steps and running a hand soothingly over and down the baby's head and back. That clear voice so often raised unnecessarily loud and cheerful was subdued, alternately murmuring unintelligibly and singing snippets of random songs. That pale face was turned away, but Kurogane saw tension keeping slender shoulders tight and thought the brow was probably creased in worry.

The baby was restless in the hotelier's arms, squirming and looking like she couldn't decide whether she wanted to completely coat both her little fists in drool or chew a hole in the blond's dark blue turtleneck. When her mouth wasn't plugged with a knuckle or mouthful of cotton, grumpy little growls and mini-cries were issuing forth. Kurogane eyed her closely and then slipped back into the kitchen to begin digging through boxes and searching cupboards. The noise he made clattering about at sink and stove eventually drew the homeowner in to the kitchen as well, and Kurogane looked up from the stove to find two clear blue eyes looking at him with something like desperation.

"What am I doing wrong?" Fai asked, sounding almost as upset as the baby.

"Nothing. She's probably just hungry."

"Again?" came the query, and Kurogane nodded while quickly tapping a finger into the water that he had heating up in a pan. Finding it hot enough, he started swishing a bottle of formula around in it, slow and steady.

"Best guess she's about two months; she'll want to eat every three or four hours."

"Just during the day, or...?" The blond's tone was not all too hopeful. Reality seemed to be setting in to the brain underneath that fluff of golden hair and Kurogane found himself throwing a crooked grin over the counter set into the middle of the kitchen.

"Or," the dark-haired man replied decidedly. A plaintive question about sleep schedules - the baby's and subsequently their's - came next, and eventually Kurogane had to lay out a typical day of infant care, hour by hour. Diaper, bottle, burping and naps were slotted in to their proper hours. He could see Fai's eyes glazing over a bit toward the end, so he just hand-waved bathtimes and exercise in and then distracted the newbie nanny with a warmed up bottle.

He shook a few drops onto his wrist - and then had to explain that making sure you didn't burn a baby's mouth with overheated liquid was a good thing - before handing the formula over. Fai absconded to a nearby couch happily with baby and bottle, and Kurogane watched them go. He told himself it was to make sure the baby was settled in properly and didn't bother pointing out to himself that he spent as much time admiring the lines of the babysitter's form as he did making sure that said baby was being held at the proper angle. What made even less sense was the fact that he found the simple look of happiness on Fai's face even more interesting than the graceful way the hotelier folded himself up on the couch, showing off his lean form against the pale material.

Kurogane only managed to pry his eyes away from both the fair-haired persons cuddled up cozily together when one of them looked over at him and smiled.

Escaping back into the kitchen, the dark-haired man got to work. The perishables were tucked away into the refrigerator - big enough for a family of ten and stocked with an arsenal of dairy products and produce worthy of a small cafe - and most of the non-perishables found their way into a walk-in pantry. Kurogane eyed the many cupboards and drawers for a while and then decided that leaving the bottles and such like on the big island in the middle of the kitchen promised the least amount of headache. He didn't quite trust himself to remember which drawer he'd put the cereal spoons in at four in the morning. Or hell, four in the afternoon, especially if the little princess turned out to be colicky or an indifferent sleeper.

One cardboard box remained half-full of bottles and tubes and tubs once the kitchen goods were sorted. The shopkeeper hefted it up and carried it out, passing the couch on his way to the bathroom nearest the baby's room. Fai was on his feet again, infant once more draped against his chest with a lightly fuzzed head peeping over his left shoulder. Instead of dancing her about and chatting, however, the blond was giving the little mite a series of cautious pats. Kurogane veered off-course at seeing this timid attempt to burp the baby and dumped his box onto the cream-colored sofa.

"She's not made of glass," Kurogane commented, coming up behind the other man. Fai had his head craned back and his eyes strained downward, trying to watch the baby's expression. He looked ridiculous and pathetic and it was inexplicably endearing.

"Like this," the shopkeeper added as Fai glanced up at him with quirked eyebrows, and brought up a hand to give the blond a firm double thump on the back to demonstrate. It teased an "oof" and a laugh from the shorter man and then an uncertain protest.

"Really? She's so tiny and...and..._breakable_," Fai said plaintively, smiling but with a bit of anxiety in the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"You won't find her so frail-seeming later when she's screaming because air bubbles are giving her a stomachache," Kurogane replied wryly, and then reached around with his left hand to give the baby a few good pats to demonstrate the durability of infants. Fai made no move to take over after the demo, only stood there quietly watching her face intently, as if a baby burp was something rare and wonderful and not to be missed. Kurogane was basically hovering over the shoulder against which the baby lay and with his greater height, he couldn't see much of either of their faces. Fai's was almost entirely out of sight behind a curtain of platinum blond.

If that expressive visage had been turned up to him with a cheeky grin or too-bright laugh and sly comment he would have decamped immediately, but Fai was silent and still and Kurogane found himself settling into the soft, quiet pocket of air he found himself in. It felt like suddenly walking into a warm patch of sunlight on a crisp winter morning and not wanting to move past it into the wind. The baby blinked her hazy blue eyes at some random spot on Fai's bunched-up collar and occasionally yawned, Kurogane kept up the rhythm of pats and rubs he'd started and Fai just stood there, cradling the infant and shifting ever so slightly from one foot to the other.

It was quiet, peaceful, _good_. It felt _good_ to soothe the little girl; to feel her tiny ribcage rise and fall under his hand in those little pauses where he just let his palm rest against her back. When he looked at her he couldn't help but remember another time and place and infant, but he also couldn't help but see the baby before him now, living and breathing and making him want to smile again whenever she scrunched up her eyes just so. She didn't just call up painful memories; she was creating new ones for him as well, and before he knew it Kurogane had stopped what he was doing and was just standing there, hand cradling her head and a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Fai looked up.

It should have felt like a perfect moment shattered, but it was no such thing. The blond looked up and just...looked, and Kurogane's only reaction at first was to glance down at the sudden movement. Fai flicked his bangs out of his eyes with that funny little toss of the head that Kurogane was becoming familiar with, but those blue eyes seemed to be having a lazy moment. They jumped up but missed catching the taller man's gaze, instead falling to look out from under half-closed lids at Kurogane's chin or thereabouts before doing a slow climb up.

Kurogane just watched impassively at first, not moving, not _not_ moving either, but when Fai's gaze met his, the breath caught in his throat and he froze. He froze, not because the sight of that open, speaking-questioning-asking look was so stunning (_though it was_) but because what he found himself so naturally wanting to do was so startling.

"Like that," Kurogane said, breaking the stillness with a voice that sounded rusty like they'd been silent for hours, not just a few minutes. He dropped his hand to give the baby one last demonstrative pat and then stepped back and away, grabbing up the until-then-forgotten box with a grim determination as if his life depended on getting it to the guest bathroom within the next ten seconds. And perhaps it did, because it was _insane_ to want to suddenly kiss someone you'd just met some very stressful hours ago and he wouldn't have blamed Fai for hitting him with a fist and then a lawsuit and bringing his peaceful life crashing down around him if he'd followed through with that dangerous impulse.

It was stupid and crazy and stupid and _stupid_, because Fai was a stranger and slick city sort and a Fluorite. He probably had a highrise full of models and Playboy bunnies and God knew what else. He wouldn't appreciate a lonely general store owner suddenly interpreting his friendly banter and generosity as invitations to get _friendly_.

And what was really stupid were these thoughts, because even as he stalked away with his box full of excuses Kurogane knew that he was full of it. He'd backslid into deeply ingrained prejudices out of surprise and discomfort, and it was doubly unfair to the blond because Fai wasn't the cheap imitation of a proper human being that Kurogane was describing to himself, nor could he be blamed for deliberately making the shopkeeper uncomfortable. Kurogane had basically stubbed his toe and blamed the table leg for being in the way.

He was falling, and blaming Fai for tripping him.

He dispersed baby shampoo, baby powder and all sorts of other baby things between the bathroom and the guest room that he'd appropriated for her use, and also took a moment to break open one of the boxes of diapers and toss a handful onto the bed next to a tub of wipes. Some towels were nicked from the linen closet as well, one getting laid out on the bed for use as a changing cloth and two more left on the bathroom sink in anticipation of bath time. Unpacking complete, Kurogane looked at himself in the mirror and told his reflection to get a grip.

It wasn't memories that were making him uncomfortable now, but present realities instead. He was trapped in a cabin that suddenly wasn't spacious enough with a little baby and a leggy blond. He could come to terms with the baby wrapping him around her little finger; babies did that. It was a survival mechanism built into them or something. There were some unpleasant realities to be faced involving her eventual fate and how it didn't include him, but what was, was. What he was really grimacing over now was his rapidly improving opinion of Fai. It was good that he'd been able to upgrade the man from "disgusting scum" to "like-able idiot", but he was afraid that if his opinion kept improving at this pace he'd...well, he'd be in trouble by the time the storm blew itself out.

He marshaled arguments against letting these two too far into his life as he turned off the lights in the bedroom and bathroom and walked back toward the kitchen with empty boxes in hand. They were stuck together for now and that was fine; they'd get along well enough and the adults would have the satisfaction of having done a good deed. Fai would have a little adventure, Kurogane would get some unlooked-for therapy and the baby wouldn't die of neglect. Win-win plus win.

When the storm was over, however, most likely so was their interaction. Kurogane needed to get back to his store and his regularly scheduled life. The baby needed to be reunited with her mother and whomever else she was tied to. Fai needed to - or at least probably wanted to - get back to his usual pampered lifestyle of richness and fame. Their lives didn't overlap and they'd probably never see each other again. It wasn't impossible that Fai would stop by the store on his way up to or down from his cabin once in a while, but Kurogane wasn't going to build any plans for the future on the strength of possibly seeing the man for a few minutes a couple of times a year. When the storm was over...it was over.

Having delivered a mini-lecture to himself on the subject, Kurogane approached the others with a more confident tread than that which had carried him away from them a few minutes ago. The serenity he'd bought himself with logic and realism lasted until he was within ten feet of the other two, at which point the infant let out a polite little belch over Fai's shoulder, which made the blond give a delighted little laugh and lean in to press a kiss against her temple.

"Good kitty," Fai cooed, and as he caught sight of Kurogane he threw his guest a bright, triumphant smile while still nuzzling happily at the baby.

The dark-haired man's serenity and steps faltered slightly at the sight, and he cursed silently to himself as he felt his vague unease and discomfort solidify slightly into an old but recognizable ache just slightly to the left of his sternum. And then he cursed aloud as he - literally, this time - stubbed his toe on a table leg.

"Shit! _Ow._" His voice was loud enough to make the baby startle and look toward him with her face all scrunched up in a prelude to a whine, and Fai hurried over while patting the infant soothingly.

"Bad bear, swearing in front of- oh!" The teasing tone cut off abruptly as the two men looked down and watched a red dot bloom on the toe of Kurogane's sock. The taller had to stop his aggravated hopping as Fai declared that he would go hunt up a bandaid and handed off the baby despite protests from both his guests. The infant mewled unhappily at the slightly awkward exchange, having very likely been on the verge of dozing off when she'd been startled by Kurogane's collision with the coffee table. The shopkeeper cradled her to his chest but it was done automatically and without much attention as he called out after the disappearing blond.

"I'm _fine_," he half-shouted, but Fai was already disappearing up the stairs, and he gave up the notion of another yell when the baby snuffled against him with a displeased little mrawl.

"Don't you start," he growled at her. She seemed to pay his threat no mind but did settle down against his warmth with a yawn as he gingerly lowered himself onto the couch, taking care to keep his bleeding toe turned away from the plush floor covering. Somehow he doubted Fai was the sort to demand monetary compensation for cleaning services, but he felt he'd probably come in for more teasing than he wanted at odd moments if he messed up the carpet. The blond would probably scold him for not being housebroken or declare them soulmates or some such nonsense because they both had a tendency to get other people's floors dirty.

The focus of his thoughts reappeared soon enough, his hands full of first aid supplies. The injured party stared in perplexity, having expected the blond to return with just one little adhesive bandage in his hand and perhaps a wad of toilet paper to wipe up the blood.

"All right, give me your foot," Fai ordered as he threw himself onto the floor by the injured appendage, spilling random containers all about. Leaning back against the couch as he was with a baby cozy against his chest, Kurogane couldn't quite swipe at the man now seated by his feet, but he did manage to kick awkwardly at Fai's chest as pale hands attempted to snag his sock.

"Quit it," he growled, as Fai laughed and easily avoided the kick by swaying quickly back. "Just take her and toss me a bandaid."

"I read that injured wild animals are even more dangerous than healthy ones," Fai replied, which made no sense to Kurogane. He was familiar with this bit of wisdom; he just didn't see what it had to do with his request for a bandaid. The blond made another pounce and this time captured Kurogane's ankle and began peeling the stained sock away.

"Hey!"

"It's just a sock, Kurogrizzly," Fai teased, grinning up at him while worming his fingers between cotton and skin. "Good thing you didn't sit on a pin, hmm?"

Kurogane couldn't think of what to yell at the man for first; the mangling of his name, the manhandling of his limb or the implications he was being assaulted with. (_Or the feel of cool fingers tickling lightly along the underside of his foot, the way that lilting voice tickled in a like manner just under his sternum, and how hard it was to shake the vision of those slender fingers tugging with teasing insistence at his waistband._) He ended up simply glowering at the other man, but all the offended pride and dignity he managed to muster up was wasted as Fai's focus fell to the injured toe.

Kurogane had attempted to walk right through a very solid piece of furniture, and as a result, a goodly chunk of his first toenail was now hanging askew like a roofing shingle torn nearly away by a storm. Fai winced at the blood seeping out of the damaged cuticle as if it was his own, and then began grabbing up this and that from around him.

"The hell are you doing?" Kurogane asked, half complaining, half curious. "I just need a bandaid or a tissue until it stops bleeding."

"You need more than that," came the argument, delivered in a tone clearly at least half distracted by the task at hand. A cotton ball soaked in something rather stinging was being dabbed carefully about. "We need to disinfect and protect. I can't have a big old grouchy bear limping around my cabin with an infected toe when there's a little kitty to keep safe, can I?"

"You could stop it with the bear nicknames and maybe there'd be less grouching," he replied, and a sigh escaped him that revealed how little hope he had of his suggestion being taken. A dark eyebrow quirked up as Fai flashed a quick smile and then pair of nail clippers and began carefully trimming away the broken fragment of toenail. It was unnerving to have a sharp cutting tool and his own tender flesh in the hands of a stranger. Scratch that; it was downright bizarre to be getting a pedicure from a Fluorite. No, even beyond that; it was tearing a hole in the fabric of reality that he of all people was sitting back and letting this moron do this to him. For him. Whatever. He felt like he'd fallen through some rift in space and time and landed in an alternate dimension. Next thing he knew a white rabbit would bound by yelling that they were late for a party.

The amputated sliver of toenail was laid to rest in a square of tissue paper next to the bloodied cotton balls, and then Fai got to work with a cotton swab and a tube of ointment. Kurogane watched his toe get anointed and wondered at the look of simple satisfaction on the blond's face. Messing about with another person's foot was not exactly the shopkeeper's idea of fun, but Fai seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly. It was the same look he had on while wrapped up in feeding or rocking the baby, and while a man's toe had nothing in common with an infant, Kurogane felt suddenly as if he'd caught a glimmer of insight into the blond.

It was - beyond the accident of birth - why the hotelier was a hotelier, perhaps; an innate desire to take care of the needs of others. He looked intent and calm and happy and content, focused almost inward even while attending to another person. He looked good. Not just desirable but _right_, and Kurogane thought to himself that this was how God had meant this man to look; a soft, secret smile instead of a too-bright laugh, measured and sure movements instead of distracted butterfly-flits here and there, clear blue eyes steady and staring up at him...

_Shit._

He automatically bristled up at this unexpected eye contact, but before he could react with an abrupt and demanding "what" like the times before, Fai crinkled up his face in a big grin and threw his hands out with a flourish.

"Tadaa~"

Kurogane looked down at his toe. And stared. And stared some more, before closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath as evenly as he could.

"You. Are goddamn lucky. I am holding an infant," he finally ground out between gritted teeth.

"Language," chided Fai with teasing disapproval as he scrambled to his feet - probably to escape - while gathering up his supplies. "And those were the only bandages I had in my bathroom."

"Why do you have _sparkly princess bandaids?!_" Kurogane demanded, and then cursed again under his breath when a thin wail of protest burbled up near his collarbone at his raised tone of voice.

"Sparkly _fairy_ princess bandaids," the blond pointed out as he picked up a stray tube of ointment. He smiled at his patient over one shoulder, soft and sweet and simple again, but a little tight around the corners and Kurogane didn't know why. "And I bought them because they made my brother laugh."

There were just so many things he could have said if Fai hadn't disappeared upstairs with such speed. _I bet you make him laugh, not some bandaids_, was the first thing that came to mind. _I'm not your brother and I'm not laughing so get this stupid pink thing off of me_, was what probably would have come out of his mouth. Somewhere in between was what he should have said, but Kurogane couldn't think of what it could have been.

The only thing that stood out in his mind with any clarity was that he was definitely in trouble.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:** This chapter was originally planned out to have some more events in it, but it got so long that I had to chop it into three (yes, I know...I'm wordy) different chapters. If there are things that feel only half-explained, that's because they are. *laugh* I'll touch on a few of the revelations in greater detail in later chapters.

To lolgreeness, yes indeed, I have deliberately dialed down the more earthy details of babycare. XD I didn't want to cut into the fluff and UST and other fic-things with too many details about how exactly one must wipe a female infant during a diaper change and why, the smell of spit-up and the illusion of volume that saliva and gastric acid can give, et cetera. I'll insert them when I need them as a plot bunny though~

To Skeletens: Haha, this was originally supposed to be a 1-2k ficlet complete in one part, but my introduction alone ran over 1k words I think, so yes...I think it'll turn out to be much longer than I'd planned.

* * *

Darkness.

He woke to darkness and nothing else. No temperature, no air, no gravity, no sense of even having a body with which to sense these things. But that didn't make sense, because if he didn't have a body, then how could he still hear? It was so faint - far away? - that he couldn't even be certain what it was, and so he tried to strain ears that he wasn't even sure he had to catch the noise better. _What was it?_

And then he was _sure_ he had a body, because as the high, thin noise grew louder his heart began thudding faster and faster. His mind couldn't yet remember but his not-quite-there body apparently did, and he waited for revelation with an increasing pulse, wishing he had legs with which to (_run, hide, go find an even darker place where it was safe to cry_) go investigate.

He waited, and the noise grew a little closer, and a little clearer.

He waited, and the noise grew a little louder, and a little more familiar in a nagging, terrifying way.

He waited, and then the noise burst upon him with shocking clarity and he _remembered_.

His heart gave a painful lurch and then raced, straining against the ribcage he theoretically had as if trying to beat its way out by force. The noise wasn't a _what_, it was a _who_. It was _her_ and she was crying. And with that knowledge came an awareness of two different realities that swarmed over his mind and left no room to question either of them. He was at once reliving his past without knowing that it _was _past, and aware that he was having the same nightmare that he had almost every time that he slept.

She was crying. She was crying for him to come get her, to come pick her up and soothe her like he always did. No one could make her stop crying as quickly as he could. He was the one who fed her, took care of her, played with her. His were the hands she knew the best, the scent and voice she responded to the quickest, the warmth and presence she craved the most. She was crying but he couldn't seem to find his arms and legs to go to her and so she just kept crying and crying and crying for him-

-and he fought to get his body back because he knew from experience that if he could just reconnect his brain to his body and feel himself _move _he would wake up. His heart pounded so hard he thought he might have a heart attack but he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't feel his lungs and try to take deep, even breaths to calm down. He couldn't feel his arms and try to lay a hand on his chest as if he could smash his panicking organ into submission. He couldn't feel any part of his body and so he was powerless to do anything-

-so she cried and cried and when he didn't come she began to wail and if he'd had lungs and a mouth he would have cursed himself because now she sounded afraid. He'd let her down by not being near her, near enough to touch and soothe and cuddle away her tears. Near enough to at least be there for her so she wasn't alone. Near enough to protect her. Yes, protect her because she wasn't just chilly or hungry or wet, she was-

-just a nightmare, that was all. Just a nightmare that he had to wake up from. He didn't need to say any magic words or click his heels together; all he needed was to feel one little finger twitch, to hear himself make one strangled groan, and he could wake up. He tried to shut out the darkness and emptiness that filled his mind and concentrated on reconnecting to his elusive physical form. He could feel his heart beating; that wasn't helpful but it was something. There had to be lungs on either side of it and he imagined them filling and deflating...imagined them until he imagined that he could feel them, and then tried to concentrate on them until they became real. He was sleeping and having a nightmare and his lungs had to be there somewhere, and if he could just command them for one second-

-he would have screamed just to drown out the sound of her shrieks, shrill and painfully clamorous, filling the darkness and surrounding him until he thought he would suffocate in the sound, go mad just to escape. She had cried for him and he hadn't come. She'd wailed and he hadn't been there for her. She was screaming and there was nothing he could do because he'd been asleep-

-having a nightmare and he couldn't wake up-

_-ey...hey, wake-_

-while she shrieked for him-

_-you're having _a bad dream."

-and he just lay in bed-

"Wake up!"

Kurogane sat up in bed, heart still hammering and ears ringing with high-pitched cries, but he had lungs and arms and legs again and he threw himself out of bed - slammed against something in his haste that yelped and tried to grab at him - with his newly regained body. He staggered out of the room (_fled from his memories_) while blinking blearily and cursing his sleep-clumsy steps, chasing after the sound of a crying baby (_grumpy and fussy and he could have wept over how normal and __safe__ she sounded_) down the hall and out into the living area.

He found her in the middle of a wide open patch of carpet, little limbs flailing spastically against the side of her doggy-bed bassinet as she demanded attention. Kurogane crashed to his knees abruptly as if he'd suffered a sudden paralysis from the waist down and scooped her up so quickly that she threw her arms out, stiff and startled.

"Shh," he soothed, cradling her to his chest and tucking her head under his chin as he rocked his upper body slightly. "I'm here; I've got you. You're okay. You're okay." Her cries had cut off when he surprised her by appearing so suddenly, and when she found herself cuddled the infant burst into a series of warbles and wet raspberries instead, but Kurogane kept up his low chant as if she still wept.

_I'm here. I've got you. You're okay. _He was soothing himself, not her.

He wasn't sure how long he knelt there on the floor but it couldn't have been too long. By the time his heart rate and breathing had calmed down and most of the nightmare had been dissipated by the warmth and weight against his chest, the sweat was only half-dried on his skin and his legs just idly threatening to cramp up. He took a couple of deep, steadying breaths and slowly got to his feet, patting the baby mechanically and looking around with dull, tired eyes.

Fai was in the kitchen, watching his guests intently.

There was a baby bottle on the island and the blond had both hands wrapped around it as if he was trying to warm it up with his body heat. The stove behind him was off but steam was rising from a small pot, and Kurogane drew the proper conclusions when Fai began walking over with the formula once eye contact was established. The bottle was waved in the air, the gesture a little awkward and uncertain, just like the hotelier's cautious manner in approaching.

"Not too hot, not too cold," the blond said with a tentative smile. "I can feed her, or if you want coffee or tea, I can..." Blond strands drifted across his face as he tipped his head back at the kitchen in a silent offer.

Kurogane didn't think he could have given up the infant just then no matter the circumstances, and a scalding hot cup of bitter coffee sounded like heaven, so he threw his host a look of pure unadulterated gratitude as he reached for the bottle.

"Coffee. Black." He grimaced a bit at the rusty quality of his voice and the questions he could see swimming in those big blue eyes turned up to him. He turned away before anything of a more serious nature could be asked and walked heavily over to the nearest seat, feeling more tired now than when he'd first gone to bed.

Kurogane lowered himself carefully down onto the cream-colored couch that seemed to be turning into the designated feeding station, moving slowly because the last dredges of his nightmare still clung to him and made him mistrust his coordination. After settling into the plush cushions with a wrinkle of his nose at the way his t-shirt clung damply between his shoulder blades, he shifted his squirmy little bundle down into the crook of one arm and began trying to connect bottle and baby.

Both the blonds he was currently stuck with seemed to be quick to pick up on how things were done; all it took was one little tap of the latex nipple against her bottom lip and the little girl was nosing around with her mouth wide open in classic baby bird style. Kurogane smiled despite himself at the sight, and then he sighed as she latched on and began draining the formula with gusto.

The nightmare was nothing new. He had it more nights than not and it was always the same. The way he'd come out of it tonight had almost shaken him more than the dream itself, and he still had to sort out whether he was disturbed or...something else. He was grateful for being woken, certainly, and found himself to be free of embarrassment as well. Fai wasn't teasingly offering to fetch him a night light or a security blanket, and the curiosity evident in the little glances being sent couch-ward was natural, not malicious.

Having the piercing screams from his nightmares morph into the demanding cries of the little princess in his arms had also been unsettling from its unfamiliarity, but good all in all. Usually he had nothing but the sound of his own labored breathing to try and chase away the lingering echoes. Sometimes he woke to the howling of wolves or wind and it was hardly an improvement. The artificial voices of music and television were always too harsh on his nerves and no help at all, and in the past, letting time pass had been his only remedy. He idly glanced over at a window and blinked in surprise to see, in the faint light from a lamp, that the storm had caught up with them and was lashing furiously at the glass. Now that he thought about it, he could hear the wind screaming about the cabin faintly.

It was pitch black and whited out outside, eerie and lonely and cold, and he hadn't noticed.

It wasn't just that he'd woken up in a stranger's abode; everything about waking up had been different. It couldn't have been much more than fifteen or twenty minutes since he'd woken - _been _woken - up and instead of staring out a window for an hour with his fists clenched tight or exhausting himself in working or working out, he was calm and relatively relaxed. Instead of waking up to an empty house and realizing all over again what he'd lost, he'd been woken up by the sound of living voices and comforted with warmth.

As if summoned by the thought, Fai drifted over with two glass mugs, one full of black coffee and the other with contents so pale that it looked like it had more cream in it than coffee. His host hesitated by the couch, eyeing Kurogane propped up in one corner with his hands full of baby. Fai hummed contemplatively before putting both mugs down on a glass-topped coffee table and throwing himself smack in the middle of the couch with a happy sigh. The shopkeeper frowned as the other man curled up on the sofa, one knee resting cozily on top of his.

"You know, there's plenty of couch behind you," the dark-haired man pointed out, but before he could continue Fai held out his arms as if requesting a hug. Kurogane paused and cocked an eyebrow. _What?_

"Yes, but if I respected your unnecessarily large bubble you wouldn't be able to pass her off to me so that you could drink your coffee," Fai replied airily.

_Oh._

Just then the baby finished off the last of the formula, setting up a series of hollow smacks as she began sucking air instead, and Kurogane wiggled the bottle away from her. She didn't seem to think much of this and immediately launched into tiny little mraws, flapping her little hands around aimlessly as if hoping to come upon sustenance again. Kurogane hefted her up and watched her try to gum everything that neared her mouth, from her own fingers to the tip of Fai's nose as she was transferred and then nuzzled. The hotelier laughed and then looked questioningly at his companion as he settled the baby against his shoulder and began patting her back as naturally as if he'd been babysitting for years.

"Is she still hungry? Should I heat up another bottle?"

Kurogane shook his head, leaning back almost reluctantly after letting the little girl go. He missed her warmth already, and reached for a mug to keep himself from crossing his arms as if he was chilled in the comfortably heated cabin.

"I'll try her on some cereal before I go to bed; if she's old enough for it it'll fill her up and hopefully she'll sleep at least four or five hours." Kurogane looked around the living area for a clock as he realized that he didn't know how long he'd been out. There wasn't really any need to keep to his usual schedule just now, but he didn't want to get his internal clock completely flipped. There would be a lot of work to do when the storm was over and he was back at his shop. (_Alone._) "What time is it, anyway?"

"Almost nine," Fai answered. "You weren't hibernating for very long."

The statement hung in the air between them but neither picked up the thread of the conversation to tug on it and maybe unravel the peaceful atmosphere. Kurogane quite simply didn't want to talk about it and on Fai's side, politeness or hesitation seemed to outweigh curiosity. They settled into silence, one concentrating on his coffee and the other fishing for a belch. It probably should have been awkward but Kurogane found himself relaxing more into the plush sofa as the minutes ticked by. The coffee was good, the couch was comfortable, and it was strangely soothing to have the other two right there next to him, close but not obtrusive, sharing their presence with him but wrapped up in each other.

He was reluctant to break up the little lounge-fest but didn't want to just doze off again either, so as soon as Fai succeeded in jiggling a couple of air bubbles out of the baby, Kurogane announced that it was exercise time for the little princess.

"But we just gave her a bath," Fai said, completely serious, and the shopkeeper almost snorted into the last of his fragrant beverage. After her last bottle, the little girl had been very thoroughly bathed, dried and powdered by Kurogane while Fai'd trotted off to whip up a quick meal for the adults. The shopkeeper had taken the opportunity to examine her again, checking for less critical things this time such as bruises and scratches and scars before diapering her up. She'd turned out to be just as healthy and whole as she seemed, and this combined with her pleasant chubbiness reassured the men that whatever her story was, it probably didn't involve being rescued from an abusive environment.

Kurogane had been forced to field some curious queries about the tiny pansy-print footed pajamas he'd magically produced from his knapsack to change the infant into, and he smacked them all away with a curt one-two of "they're just some old baby clothes" and "none of your business". He'd prowled around the cabin a bit with the infant after that, pointedly keeping to windows and bookshelves as far away as possible from the blond, but Fai had lured his grumbly guest in close again by baiting his dining room table with a fragrant meal of herb-crusted chicken and pasta smothered in what looked like wild mushroom gravy.

Some back-cracking and one yawn from the taller after the meal - he'd had seconds and idly picked his way through a third helping of what looked like albino green beans while watching Fai and the baby make faces at each other - had been enough to make his host start fussing over _him _instead of the baby, and Kurogane had soon been persuaded into admitting that a quick nap might not be a bad idea. He'd had little sleep the night before and had given his adrenal gland a pretty good working out that day, after all. The quick nap had turned out to be a very bad idea, sadly, and now he was in no mood to call it a day and turn in early.

"We're not going to make her break a sweat doing push-ups," he responded, attempting scathing sarcasm and only managing to sound wryly amused. "It's basically play time, except she's not old enough to really do anything."

The little girl was plucked away from Fai, which she was okay with, and then laid down on her tummy on the carpet, which she was not quite so okay with. Kurogane sat down on the floor as well and gave her a little pat on the back.

"You're fine," he reassured her, but she disagreed, arching her back to get her face away from the fibers and mewing discontentedly. Fai paused in the middle of reaching for his neglected cup of coffee on the table, watching her punch and kick at the air with a frown crinkling his forehead.

"This is your idea of letting her play?" the hotelier asked dubiously.

"_ahm aww_," the baby agreed.

"Exercise," Kurogane clarified. "Crying works their lungs out and this is just a step toward learning to do things like roll over and crawl." He gestured to the way she kept lifting her head up and flailing her limbs about, but Fai looked more worried than convinced. Deferring to the other man's greater experience for now, the blond let the baby be and settled down cross-legged on the floor, sipping his drink and flinching whenever the infant let her head flop back down onto the floor as if he was afraid she'd break her nose on his ridiculously plushy carpet.

The baby did all right for about two minutes, and then she began doing a steady climb up the register. Little mewls turned into firm rawrs and then began ratcheting up into outright cries.

"Now she sounds _mad_. This isn't exercise; this is torture," Fai said in consternation, and Kurogane stretched out alongside the infant to try and distract her a bit. Exercise time was supposed to last for quite a bit for best results. He ended up with his own face on the carpet as he tried to catch her eye, much to the blond's obvious amusement, but to no avail. She refused to be appeased, and when fat tears began to gather in her lashes Kurogane caved in.

"All right, fine," he grumbled, grabbing her under the armpits and then hauling her onto his chest as he rolled onto his back. "There. Happy?"

She was still on her stomach but a cotton-covered torso seemed like a far more acceptable exercise surface than an expensive carpet, and soon enough the strident cries had calmed down into intermittent mews. She kicked happily, grabbed at Kurogane's t-shirt, and looked around with wobbly bobbly jerks of her head.

"Much better," Fai said decisively, sounding happier as well. He set his mug back on the table next to Kurogane's empty one and then scooted close so that he could run his hand lightly over the baby's head and back. She enjoyed the caresses and made it apparent, burbling and kicking happily. Her living yoga mat was made slightly uncomfortable by the blond's cozy closeness and the effect it had on him, but he covered it up with some grumbles about a high maintenance pain in the ass and left it up to his audience to decide who he was actually talking about.

"How long does a baby workout usually last?" the blond smilingly inquired, tipping his head and peering at Kurogane from behind a thin curtain of bangs.

"Dunno, maybe twenty minutes." Kurogane shrugged as best he could while lying flat on his back and manfully attempted to keep his eyes on the baby. He'd already acknowledged himself in danger; no need to go looking for more.

"Want to play something while she's busy exercising?"

"What?" he asked rather blankly. His tone implied more confusion as to what the blond was going on about rather than a simple inquiry of what, exactly, Fai wanted to play.

"You know, a game."

Ruddy eyes stared up, lacking the luster of enlightenment.

"What, like Monopoly? How am I supposed to play anything lying on the floor?" As soon as the words left his mouth the shopkeeper realized how simple it would be for the blond to turn the innocent - albeit somewhat belligerently voiced - question into something twisted. If the words "tonsil hockey" came out of Fai's mouth, Kurogane was going to have to make a fast, hard decision about who to deck; himself for being tempted or Fai for...some reason.

"We actually do have board games," Fai laughed, "but I was thinking more like twenty questions or truth or dare."

"Truth or...what are you, twelve?"

"Not quite, but we _are _having a sleepover," the blond countered. "Come on, don't be such a stuffy old bear. It'll be fun."

"Cut it out with the bear crap, and fun compared to _what_?" Kurogane asked, unable to think of anything himself. The bright little smile on Fai's face developed a little twist, going from encouraging to just slightly challenging.

"Compared tooo...listening to me sing 'Ninety Nine Haunches of Deer on the Wall' the whole way through?"

The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes and glared, but his ungainly sprawl seemed to be undermining his authority and presence, because Fai just continued smiling down at him. The blond looked serene and smug, and it made Kurogane want to refuse all the more, but the thought that Fai was dead serious about the singing stopped him. He could probably tie the guy up and stuff him in a closet for a while, but eventually his host would need to be freed and he could imagine that there would be some absolutely _epic _sulking and whining to have to deal with.

"Fine," he capitulated. "Truth or dare, then." Maybe he could dare Fai to ditch the bear nicknames for twenty four hours. It also occurred to him that a kids' game had the advantage of creating more of a casual atmosphere than a dangerous mood, and he was still in a defensive frame of mind.

Contrary to expectations, the blond hovering above him did not immediately burst into triumphant cheers, but continued to gaze calmly down. If anything the man grew a little more serious, a little more thoughtful. Kurogane thought of the two games that had been suggested - word games that could be played lying down, yes, but both involving answering questions - and grew suddenly suspicious.

"So, truth or dare?" Fai asked, eyes and smile both wider now, looking eager to begin. There was still a hint of something off in his overall body language, though. Kurogane couldn't quite put a finger on it but there was something that made him think there was a hint of nervousness as well as anticipation, as if Fai was keen to play but also not quite certain the game was going to go his way. It wasn't exactly a win-lose sort of game, and Kurogane tensed up a bit in reaction to the impressions he was getting as he replied.

"Truth."

Fai hesitated, which only keyed the other man up another notch, and then asked his question.

"Why did you say that you couldn't turn the car around with her still inside?"

It was ridiculous to be so tense when one was flat on their back on soft carpet with a baby drooling on one's chest, but Kurogane managed it.

"Dare," he growled, and Fai pouted at him.

"Fine. I dare you to wet yourself down in the shower, dump a five pound sack of flour out on yourself, and then let me take a picture of you sitting outside, drinking out of a glass bottle of Coke."

"WHAT?!"

"_ah?!_" yiped the baby, startled by the sudden increase of noise.

"A Coca Cola polar bear in Colorado," Fai continued cheerily, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Kurogane was hauling himself up into a sitting position while cradling the startled baby close with one hand. "I'll hang it in my bedroom and it'll be Christmas all year long."

After mentally stumbling over the idea of Fai hanging a picture of him up in his bedroom, the proposed model gathered up his wits again and snarled a decided negative.

"I am _not _doing that."

"You're defaulting back to truth, then?"

"I'm going to default right back to my place if you keep this up."

"No, you won't." The calm, confident manner in which Fai said it splashed a little cold water on Kurogane's temper, and he frowned and bought himself a few seconds by busying himself in repositioning the little girl. Seating himself cross-legged on the carpet, the shopkeeper draped her along his forearm as if she were a football while staring at Fai as if the man had grown fangs and claws.

"You won't," Fai insisted. "You're responsible and kind-"

"And you are creepy as hell," Kurogane interrupted, practically breaking out in gooseflesh at the unexpected praise.

"-and you wouldn't leave our poor defenseless little kitty here with infant-challenged me or expose her to the dangers of a drive back to your place in the middle of a snowstorm."

There was really no rebuttal he could make to those statements, since they were absolutely true. He'd deny kindness but prided himself on being a responsible adult, and he couldn't think of anything that could make him abandon or endanger the infant currently cooing happily in his lap. Of course, this didn't mean he was about to make a biscuit out of himself for Fai's entertainment. Kurogane glared, glared some more, and then sighed. _Fine._

"I lost family in a car accident on that road," he replied succinctly, leaving out every painful detail he could. He had to answer; it didn't mean he had to expose himself, bare-throated and belly up. Blond eyebrows knit together in a frown, but not out of frustration at the probably unsatisfying answer. Instead Fai looked honestly concerned and maybe pitying, and Kurogane interrupted the rather natural question almost before it was out of the hotelier's mouth.

"Was it-"

"Truth or dare?" Kurogane asked abruptly, and Fai blinked and then leaned back with a soft, "oh" of recollection.

"Truth," the blond answered, and then suddenly Kurogane realized that he had no idea what to ask. Not wanting to leave too long of a pause that Fai might take advantage of, he opened his mouth.

"Why isn't your brother here, too?" he questioned, and then internally cursed his brain for producing _that _on the spur of the moment. He could only theorize that the question that had been posed to him had put his mind in a serious, close-to-home track.

Next to him, Fai's expression closed off and became guarded, almost blank. It made a needle of guilt or regret stab at Kurogane, but he shrugged it off. The hotelier could hardly complain about invasion of private space; he'd been the one to invade that territory first. Tit for tat. He got ready with a dare to give up bear nicknames, but Fai did not opt out.

"He doesn't like snow," came the casual sounding reply, along with a little shrug. "Truth or dare?"

"What, that's it? 'Doesn't like snow' but he owns this place with you? That's a crap answer." He hadn't actually meant to pry, but now that the question was out there Kurogane found himself miffed that he'd only gotten enough of an answer to make him even more curious.

"Au contrair, monsieur bear," Fai said in a sing-song voice. "It's as good an answer as you gave me."

"Fine, ask me another one," Kurogane groused, willing to give away a bit more detail in order to get the same from his companion. He had to endure another thoughtful look that he couldn't quite interpret, almost growing impatient to get on with the not-quite-a-game before the other man spoke again.

"What's your favorite color?" Fai asked, leaning in a bit with a cheeky sort of smile.

_Bastard, _the dark-haired man thought, and his stubborn competitive streak rose up to do battle. If the bird-brain thought he'd get away with a one-word answer in the next round he was in for a surprise.

"Blue," Kurogane replied, and then went on to explain further. "Not really any one particular blue though. When I think of it, it's a lot of different colors. I've always wanted to see the ocean but haven't had an opportunity; 've just seen it in movies and television and photographs. I grew up here and I'm used to mountains and open sky but the ocean just seems like it would be a whole different sort of...I don't know, _big _and eternal. It's that blue that's my favorite; that picture in my head of what the ocean looks like...always changing but always blue." He paused a moment and then asked his question, dispensing with the "truth or dare" prompt.

"So why doesn't your brother like snow?"

"...the grizzly bear is a highly intelligent animal, and not to be taken lightly," Fai intoned in what Kurogane could only assume was meant to be an English accent, mostly mirthless but not exactly offended or angry either. Blue (_changeable, stormy, __ocean_) eyes broke away and came to rest on a random patch of carpet as the answer unfolded, and Kurogane listened with his sense of triumph fading away and being replaced by something else.

"We were taken on vacations every winter; different places but always snow. The adults would go drinking or gambling or something and the kids would play in the snow and live on cookies and cocoa. My brother and I liked to sneak off together, not just away from the nannies but the cousins, too. We weren't...we didn't get along with anyone, really. Just each other. So one day we wandered off on some random trail and found this little shack. I guess it was one of those hunting shelters? Anyway, I got locked in and my brother got locked out. I was too short to unbolt the door or climb back up to the window I'd tumbled in through..."

The narration broke off and Fai curled his knees up suddenly, hunching over them as if the chill from his memories had settled over him again, and Kurogane had a vision of a little boy alone in the dark, sitting with his back against a wall, bewildered because he was suddenly trapped and separated from the one person he loved well in the world. It made him want to grab the blond, drag him in close and tell him with warmth and breath and a firm embrace that he understood what it was to be haunted.

"Yuui had to walk back alone through the woods to get help. It started snowing and he must have gone off the trail because he remembers just..._wading _through snow and having to climb up out of a ravine at one point. He made it back eventually and brought one of the nannies back to get me out. He got really sick after that - no wonder, getting half frozen and exhausting himself while I was just sitting cozy and bored - and he hasn't voluntarily set foot in snow ever since."

Fai chewed on his lower lip for a moment and then tried to shake the memories off, tipping his head and setting it back down on his knees to smile crookedly up at his guest. There was no answering smile or any attempt to comfort or console; Kurogane frowned instead, feeling uneasy with almost every detail that had stood out. Children being neglected under the guise of being spoiled, a little boy walking for hours and finally reaching home base on his own instead of being found because they hadn't been _looked for_, the way the blond had described fretting away in a dank old shed as "sitting cozy and bored", and most of all Fai voluntarily coming up here every winter to sit alone in a cabin, apart from a brother that Kurogane could tell he loved just from the way he said his name.

Fai didn't come here for the peace and privacy. He was either coming here to defiantly face down old memories, or do penance.

"So...truth or dare?" Fai asked, and it took Kurogane a moment to remember that they were playing something instead of just prying into each other's deepest darkests for the not-fun of it. He chose truth again, and the blond's expression reverted to that hesitant curiosity.

"Was it your wife and daughter that you lost in the accident?"

Kurogane, twenty-four years old and just one barely remembered hook-up removed from having to admit he was a virgin, blinked and looked purely puzzled for a moment. _His who and what?_

"Where'd you get-" he began, and then cut himself off abruptly. "You were in my room," he suddenly recalled, and Fai squirmed a bit and then nodded, silently confirming the conclusion Kurogane had jumped to about the conclusion Fai had jumped to.

Kurogane's bedroom was hardly less spartan than his store. There was a bed, a desk, a dresser, a television and a couch from which to watch it on. And that was about it. There were some boxes of paperwork stacked in a corner and a couple of light fixtures, but the only decorative items were two pictures; one postcard leaning against the desk lamp of some random white-sand beach, and a framed photograph on the dresser. Three people smiled out from the simple silver frame. In the very center of the picture was an infant dressed in an almost ridiculous amount of white lace and violet ribbons. A slender young woman with long black hair, pale skin and a madonna smile was holding her up for the camera's benefit. And hovering over them both was a tall, tanned man with spiky black hair and warm brown eyes, smiling at the photographer with his face suffused with love and pride and pure simple satisfaction in life.

It was a bit of a far shot, taken with a cheap camera and printed only three by five, but Kurogane was still a little surprised at Fai's mistake.

"The picture on my dresser?" he asked, and waited until Fai nodded. "That's not me. That's my father."

"Oh," was Fai's only reply for a moment, wide-eyed with surprise. And then the next comment was not a remark on how Kurogane was the spitting image of his sire, nor even a request for confirmation that the others in the photograph were Kurogane's mother and sister.

"You took the picture?"

"Yeah," Kurogane confirmed, after his own brief pause of surprise. He then thought back to Fai's original query, and out of some strange appreciation for the lack of stupid comments and questions, decided to answer it. The man had talked him down from a bad spot on the road and rescued him from a nightmare; he was practically holding all the clues already and only needed Kurogane to fill in a few details.

"They're the family I lost; my parents and my little sister," he explained, and dropped his eyes to the infant in his lap. It had been years since any of his customers had mentioned the tragedy, and this was the first time he'd ever spoken of it voluntarily. It was easier to look into hazy blue eyes than clear ones when touching on these old scars, and easier to speak of the child he missed while rubbing the belly of the one he'd been saddled (_gifted_) with temporarily.

"My mother had this thing with her lungs. She really shouldn't have had another baby but it was part of their dream and her doctor said the disease could be managed with meds. She got worse after the delivery though and it seemed like my parents spent more time going to and from doctor's appointments than they did at home. One time my little sister was due for some shots, so they were all driving down into the city for a round of appointments. They went off the road, and...that was that. The police aren't sure exactly what happened; my father was a good driver though, so I figure another car swerved into their lane and then just took off afterwards. Maybe didn't even realize they'd caused an accident. Had to be something like that."

Had to be, because Kurogane couldn't believe that it was just pure dumb luck or a chain of unlucky coincidences that had brought his world to an end. It was easier to think that out there somewhere was a person on whom the blame rested, even if he never figured out exactly who or where they were.

He stared down at the baby who was staring right back at him, calm and cooing. He thought of how her noisy cries had chased away the thin screams from his nightmare, and of the faint voice intruding on it even before he heard her crying, telling him to wake up. He'd answered Fai's question about the victims of the car accident he'd alluded to but that wasn't the whole story, and now that he'd begun talking it seemed easier to just keep going. The door had been opened and a stranger invited in...might as well let him peek in the closets, too.

"I was at home when they died. Napping," Kurogane continued, his free hand falling away from the baby's stomach and clenching into a fist on the floor. He'd come to terms with the fact that his family was gone but somehow the fact that he'd been contentedly unconscious while they'd died had never stopped rankling. It was just _wrong_, somehow, that the best man and woman in the world and the sweetest little baby in all creation had been killed and he hadn't even twitched.

The sun should have gone out. The mountains should have crumbled. He should have woken up screaming and knowing something was wrong. Instead, he'd slept soundly and woken up refreshed, and didn't even think anything of it when the phone began ringing half an hour later.

"It was pretty much the last decent sleep I ever got. An officer told me they all died almost instantly but I hear her - my sister, I mean - crying in my sleep as if...as if it took a long time." (_Screaming, shrieking, dying while he slept._) Kurogane forced himself to look up again, to meet those big blue eyes now filled with horrified compassion.

"I'm sorry," Fai blurted, his voice not much more than a whisper. A word of gratitude for waking him up during yet another nightmare died in Kurogane's throat as he suffered mental whiplash, unable to follow the turn of the conversation quickly enough.

"What?" he asked, just as perplexed as before, when Fai had seemed to be apologizing for causing a rockslide. The shopkeeper found himself struggling for equilibrium - not even sure if he wanted to cry over his past or laugh at his present - as the somber, serious mood cracked and hatched a strange, silly, comfortable sort of confusion. He couldn't keep up with this mercurial moron, wasn't even sure he wanted to be able to, and for some god-forsaken reason, enjoyed the struggle.

"For asking," Fai explained, shaking his head and looking much more wounded than Kurogane could have ever expected. "I'm sorry for making you remember, and for-"

"I never _forgot_," Kurogane interrupted, a flare of anger making his voice rough enough to startle the other man into silence.

"I didn't need you to remind me," he snapped, leaning forward slightly and almost snarling out his next question. "What, are you the one who drove them off the road?"

"No! _No,_God no." The blond looked absolutely traumatized by the idea and actually straightened up and leaned back, as if fearful that he was about to be accused, damned and executed right in his own living room.

"Then there's no reason to apologize," Kurogane huffed, all the ire and aggression in his tone and tense posture suddenly melting away. It had occurred to him in the instant the question left his mouth that it wasn't impossible, actually, that by some hellish coincidence, he was actually in the same room with the man who'd caused his family to be wiped out. But he hadn't really believed it. He hadn't asked because he'd wanted to be sure; he'd asked because he'd wanted to smack a little bit of stupid out of that fluffy blond head.

"Truth or dare," he demanded, thinking suddenly of a question he wanted to ask.

"Maybe we should stop playing," Fai suggested, laughing a bit. "It hasn't exactly been a relaxing game."

"You went first, so I get to go last," Kurogane retorted, and then repeated the prompt. As soon as his companion gave in and chose the first option, the dark-haired man asked evenly, "Any reason you always blame yourself for everything?"

It wasn't quite a stab in the dark, but it was still only a loose jumble of a few hours' interaction held together with gut feeling. The way Fai froze up and frowned momentarily, however, told Kurogane that he'd scored a hit. It was barely a second later that slender shoulders shrugged and relaxed, accompanied by a breathy laugh and a grin.

"Some people have these things called manners, grumpy bear. It's polite to say things like 'please' and 'thank you' _and 'I'm sorry'_, even when it might not be absolutely necessary to do so." Fai's manner was a little too perfectly relaxed and amiable, with just the right amount of friendly teasing to put his hackles up, and Kurogane's eyes narrowed as he growled a reply.

"And _some _people'd prefer a little more plain honesty and a lot less shallow politeness." And while Fai just laughed at him, Kurogane added as an afterthought, "...and no bear nicknames at all."

The unintentionally humorous quip lightened the mood, and the game continued in along simpler lines after that, the both of them forgetting for the moment that they'd been about to call it quits. The dark-haired man recalled it a bit too late as he blinked and just stared after Fai casually tossed off the query of,

"Men, women or both?"

"The hell kind of question is that?!" Kurogane's voice exploded up from the floor that he'd lain down upon again, and he had to quickly steady the poor startled mite once more draped across his chest as she arched back and almost rolled right off of him.

"Dare, then?" Fai asked, and made a show of pondering a suitable act, placing one finger on pouted-out lips with a contemplative hum. The game had thus far proceeded on truths alone, the two men trading simple questions about fond memories and favorite places, because Kurogane hadn't really been able think of anything dare-worthy and Fai's proposals had always been utterly unacceptable. After being challenged to make a ninja mask out of a black t-shirt and fight a stuffed bunny while armed with a silver letter opener, learn and then perform something called "the horse dance", and eat a gallon of chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup and chocolate chips - and each challenge ending with "while I record it on my phone" - the taller just answered every question asked as if "dare" was not even an option.

Until the question of his sexuality came up.

It wasn't that he was afraid or embarrassed to answer; his reaction had mostly been due to his notions of what was and was not okay to ask someone and the fact that he'd been taken utterly by surprise. Besides being extremely personal, it was also a question he'd never had to really answer before; not even to himself. His brief and disastrous adventure in the city was filed away in his memory as a mistake of his suddenly empty and rage-filled youth, none of it - bar-hopping, club-jumping, pot-smoking and impulse sex with the first stranger to invite him - ever to be repeated.

None of it had helped anyway.

He'd had inklings in between all the growing pains and awkwardnesses of youth that he wasn't going to end up with a traditional family like the one he'd been born into, and the fact that the random he'd been deflowered by in the storage closet of a downtown club had been a guy was a clue too big to ignore. If he wasn't gay, he was at least bi-sexual, but knowing it and admitting it out loud to someone he'd just met _today _were two very, very different things.

"Oh, I know," Fai chirped with a self-satisfied clapping of his hands, and Kurogane sat up with a sigh - partly of relief that he had a simple way to avoid the question - while cradling the burbling baby to his chest and girding himself for something truly appalling.

"I dare you to kiss me."

There were various options available to Kurogane, and many of them so simple, so easy to put into action. The first that came to mind was to hold the baby very carefully against his chest with one hand, and with the other, punch Fai clear across the cabin. The second that followed almost immediately upon the tail of the first also involved carefully cradling the baby, but ended with Fai crushed against him instead of on the other side of the room, with kiss-bruised lips instead of bloodied ones.

Torn between two ideas, one terrible and one terrific and he wasn't sure which was which, Kurogane just sputtered, searching for something to say. He snapped his mouth shut when Fai leaned forward, fingers splayed out and sinking into the thick carpet, head tipped in what was either inquiry or invitation. The blond seemed determined to get an answer one way or another and it seemed like Kurogane had about three seconds to decide how to respond before having his lips stolen, and once _that_happened, all bets were very likely off.

Half-sprawled on the floor with an infant glommed onto his torso, the shopkeeper didn't have too many options in the way of escape or even delay. He managed to lean back a bit and that was about it, but it proved to be enough as Fai stopped crowding him just as the distance between them shrank down to about eight inches. Close enough that he had to cut his eyes back and forth between those bright blue ones, far enough that he didn't have to go cross-eyed to look into them. Close enough to feel the little huff of laughter that escaped the blond, far enough...actually not far enough for anything, really.

"Bear caught in headlights," Fai quipped, the smile fading a bit. "I'm not going to...I mean, if it's 'women' then just say so."

"It's not," Kurogane blurted, feeling unaccountably clumsy and uncertain. How the _hell _had he gotten himself into this awkward situation? Wait, he hadn't. Fai had.

A short pause and a soft "oh" was all that Kurogane got, and then the blond was leaning away, taking away a warmth that he hadn't realized was there until it was withdrawn. The sense that they'd been about to sink into some stupid misunderstanding had kicked him into confessing, but instead of renewing, the smile only fixed itself in its dimmed state. Though he wasn't ready to make any claims or commitments, he'd been fairly certain he'd given the right answer. (_Right for __what__? This wasn't going anywhere, was it?_) So why did he feel like he'd just done something exactly wrong?

He tried to think but Fai was already stretching and suggesting that they actually call it quits for real this time and so he growled out the first dilatory tactic he could think of.

"I still have a turn left." He got a curious hum and uplifting of fair eyebrows, and then the other man seemed to recall his companion's grumpy insistence that since Fai had begun the game, Kurogane should get to be the one to end it. With a teasing quip about the stubborn nature of grizzlies, the hotelier gave in with a shrug and opted for truth.

"What the hell just happened?" Kurogane demanded, partly belligerent, partly befuddled.

Fai immediately laughed and replied, "nothing" in a sing-song manner, which told the dark-haired man that something _had _happened, else the hotelier would have been puzzled as to what, exactly, he was being asked. Before he could repeat himself and insist on getting answers, Fai unfolded himself from the floor, collected the coffee mugs and fled to the kitchen.

Never turn and run away from a bear.

Without examining his motivations too closely, Kurogane steadied the baby with his hands and then carefully got his legs under him to give chase. Fai still had his back turned, calling out questions about making more coffee and detailing the possibilities of late night snacks without pausing for any answer, and didn't notice that he was being pursued. The baby gave them away with a sudden raspberry blown around one drool-coated fist, and Fai turned quickly as Kurogane entered the kitchen.

"Answer me," the dark-haired man ordered. They were on opposite sides of the island, Fai at the sink and Kurogane near the passageway, and the taller suddenly felt as if the bear-nicknames were apt. He felt like he was stalking prey and had just cornered it, and Fai looked ready to bolt.

It was a quick, fleeting impression that didn't even last one second. The blond's expression bloomed back into a smile, rueful and resigned, and Fai shook his head.

"What am I going to do with you?" the hotelier asked. "You really are a stubborn old bear, digging and digging for one little grub and not even caring that you're tearing apart a perfectly nice tree to do it."

"Stop talking and start making sense," Kurogane said, trying to growl but sounding rather plaintive underneath. He leaned against a column and lifted the baby away from him to re-settle her a bit more comfortably. There was a rather pouty, put-upon sigh from hotelier, but then even that little sheen of drama fell away, leaving Fai looking...normal. Cheerful and casual and slightly chiding, and Kurogane felt irritable all over again because he couldn't tell if the brief petulance had been only what it had seemed, or a diversion while Fai put on what could be a well-worn facade of airy, unthinking cheer.

"Well, you didn't want to answer the question, but when I gave you the option of giving me one little kiss instead, you went ahead and answered it. So even if you're interested in men, you're obviously not interested in _me_. It's no big deal," Fai rushed to say in a startlingly convincing carefree manner, before giving a reassuring sort of smile. "Don't worry, I'm not the sulky type. You'll still be able to pencil this into your memories as an adventure in babysitting instead of a nightmare of awkward silences."

"I don't hand out kisses like business cards. They should mean something, not be part of some _game_," Kurogane retorted, frustrated that despite his best efforts - that he was putting forth for some unknown reason - Fai should still be misunderstanding him. It seemed simplest and even logical to do as his host said and not worry about it; let it go and get through the storm as best they could. Allowing the blond to continue under his current misapprehension would cut out any further flirting and possibly make him ease up on the teasing as well. But Kurogane was who he was, and lies never sat well with him.

Neither did the vague suspicion that what Fai was after was just another little "adventure".

"And another thing; I'm not ending up penciled into _your_ memories as some Rocky Mountain random. I don't do lukewarm, bullshit, disposable relationships. I _am _interested, but I'm not going to start something with you when I know it has to end in a few days."

He had all the satisfaction he expected in seeing the blond's smooth smiles crumble away, replaced by surprise and quickly succeeded by something like embarrassment. There wasn't much else for him to be happy about. He'd cleared up the misunderstanding but left nowhere for them to go. His own words left a bitter taste in his mouth and curled his lip, and before either of them could speak again and possibly make things even worse, Kurogane turned and stalked away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author Notes:** My "diarrhea of the word processor" never ceases to amaze - and frustrate - me. Chapter five was supposed to contain this section, as well as three other plot points. It seems like each plot point is going to take one chapter by itself. *rolls eyes*

SoShi Love x3: Very true about the baby's unnatural lack of spit-up. XD I usually skim over many bodily functions or ignore them entirely. The baby will spit up eventually, but as a deliberate plot device. *hee*

gothpandaotaku: Fai does indeed have a secret or two, but he's not nearly as angsty and mysterious as in TRC. His brother is alive and well, and while they weren't perfectly happy as children they've grown up fairly steady and stable. So you're sort of right~

Thank you everyone for the reviews! *heart*

[edit] OMG my apologies; I had a lot of difficulty getting the copy-paste function to work and I ended up with the text pasted in twice! Thank you misere for pointing this out to me.

* * *

Contrary to Fai's prediction, a rather awkward silence descended after the decidedly un-relaxing game of Truth or Dare. While Fai remained in the kitchen to finish cleaning up, Kurogane grumped off to a far corner of the cabin, eventually settling into a window seat to watch the storm lash at the windows. And perhaps sulk a bit at life's perverseness.

Despite being double-paned and well insulated, cold of course seeped through the glass to chill the pleasantly warm air within, and while it wasn't enough to make Kurogane shiver he took the precaution of dragging a fluffy blanket off of an easy chair in passing. The infant reclined cozily in his lap, leaning back against his stomach, and he tucked the fluffy fabric in all around her to insulate her against the cold. She took little interest in her surroundings, seemingly content to just sit and attempt to suck on her thumb. Her chubby hands occasionally made it near her mouth, but a bit of drooling and gnawing was about all she managed since she kept her fingers tightly fisted.

Kurogane, on his part, spent some time just staring out the window. He had an innate appreciation for nature's beauties, even the wild and dangerous ones, and found almost as much to occupy his eyes in the snowstorm as some people did in a television program. Tanned hands cradled the baby and sometimes gave her a pat or let her latch on to a finger and gum it with fierce concentration. While his eyes and hands somewhat absently occupied themselves, his mind wandered away, sneaking off somewhere behind him. Where Fai was.

The baby was teasing smiles and fondness from him, and that was only to be expected. But Fai seemed to have just as natural a knack for riling him up and ruffling his feathers and raising his hackles and just making him _react_. So much for ignoring the man and getting through the next few days as calmly and quietly as he could. Kurogane had done exactly the opposite; drawn near and reached out, tangled his thoughts up in the blond and gotten greedy for more and more.

He wanted to gaze at those clear, bright eyes; indulge in the sight for as long as he wanted without any concern about having his motivations questioned, as if those blue orbs were no more piercing and keen as the window he was staring through. He wondered whether that cornsilk fluff atop the man's head was as soft as it looked, and wanted to catch its scent again. He remembered thinking - half panic, half eager anticipation - that Fai was going to kiss him and almost regretted giving that little speech that precluded the possibility of it ever happening.

Not _almost _regretted, in point of fact. Regretted. All-out. But even so he couldn't rightly see any other path he could have chosen. He hadn't just wanted a kiss; he'd wanted a beginning. Not just a few days of excitement to liven up his routine, but the start of something right and bright and warm to chase away the shadows and fill the emptiness that he'd gotten so good at ignoring. In an unexpected moment of self-examination he found that he was content with his life but not satisfied. Happy enough, but not as happy as he knew he could be. He mourned the family he'd had and was missing the family he could have found.

It had been his parents' lifelong dream to build a cozy nest for themselves up in these wilds so that they could raise a family in the fresh air and open space. After their tragic death, Kurogane had held on to their dream and his home as if they were the last remnants of the loved ones he'd lost. As if letting them fade away from the landscape would mean that their existence would be erased from everything, even his heart and memories.

His routine was almost a ritual; live in the house, run the shop, submerge himself in the snowbound landscape. Anchor the memory of the lost to the present through himself. Somewhere along the way, preserving the little home and shop his parents had built had _become _his life. There was only that one postcard in his bedroom as proof that he'd ever thought of a different place for himself, like a stray leaf blown in through a window left carelessly open and reluctantly allowed to stay in a corner. Mostly out of sight, never really out of mind, constantly ignored so that it needn't be picked up and thrown away.

After losing the precious few he'd loved most of all, Kurogane had shunned the idea of finding a special someone for himself and raising a family of his own. He was fulfilling his parents' dream but not continuing it on through another generation. Though he hadn't really thought it through nor admitted it to himself, taking someone new into his heart had seemed too dangerous, as if one beloved face might crowd out another and moving on seem too much like moving away. But here he was, away from his home with two strangers putting down roots in his heart, and he suddenly, piercingly, painfully _wanted _this.

He'd refused to admit he was lonely, refused to admit he was built for home and family instead of solitude, and it was shocking to be slapped in the face with such a revelation after so many years of denial. What was even worse was that he wasn't just finally admitting a longing for more in his life; he wanted these two strangers specifically. He found himself wanting to steal them away from the world and keep them for his own, like a dragon with golden treasure, and it was bitter to know even as he wished it that it could never happen. The blond and the baby already belonged to other people, other lives.

They weren't for him.

What was also undeniable, however, was that the blond and baby were _here_, snowed in with him in this cabin and part of his life for a short period of time. Maybe he couldn't keep them, but he had them for now, and he supposed ruefully that it wouldn't kill him to make the most of this little upset in his routine. The baby, especially, needed him. He could not ignore her out of a selfish desire to shield his heart from too much pain in bidding her farewell after the storm had blown over. Fai, on the other hand-

-sat down on the tiny fragment of window-seat that wasn't already occupied, practically sitting on one of the shopkeeper's feet. One lean leg trailed down to the floor to keep the blond balanced, and the other was pulled up to provide a resting place for a pointed chin. Ruddy eyes were blinked rapidly a few times as Kurogane had to reconcile his thoughts of keeping the other man at a safe distance with the fact that Fai had just encamped within his personal space without so much as an "excuse me" or "may I".

Again.

"Did you want more coffee or anything else from the kitchen?" Fai asked, smooth as you please with a little smile lingering about his lips, as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing was awkward about their situation. Two comfortable friends, happy just to be together, babysitting someone's daughter. No mysteries and might-have-beens dangling in the air between them.

"No," Kurogane replied succinctly, because first of all he really didn't want any more coffee just then, and secondly, he would have rather been run down and munched on by a pack of wolves than blurt out some of the things that he _could _think of to ask for.

_Go away._

_Come here._

_I wish I'd never met you._

_I wish you were mine._

"She's out," Fai commented then, peering at the baby with his smile widening. A quick glance down confirmed that the infant had indeed conked out, one little fist still wrapped tight around a thick finger but otherwise slumped limply against him. "Does this negate the cereal and sleep-through-the-night plan?"

Kurogane cast his gaze around until he caught sight of a clock ticking sedately away on a shelf and took a moment to squint at it, trying to make out exactly which faint line was the minute hand.

"No," he finally replied. "It's still early enough. She'll wake up eventually and then I'll try her on some cereal. Even if she sleeps a while it's not like it matters if I stay up late."

"Mm, true. And if she ends up waking up every two or three hours anyway?"

"Then I'm going to come find you the second time she wakes up so that I can get some sleep," Kurogane said decisively. Fai met this proposal of taking turns more than good-naturedly, even looking rather pleased at the idea of being shaken out of much-needed sleep to tend to a fussing infant.

"Where is your room anyway?" Kurogane asked with a glance over to the stairs, not wanting to go blundering around unfamiliar rooms in the dark. He'd already stubbed one toe; he had no desire to bark his shins on a side table or bust his nose on a door frame.

The dork would tease him forever for _days_.

"Upstairs," Fai answered vaguely, and when the other man rolled his eyes at this bit of obviousness, gave an apologetic little laugh. "It doesn't matter. If you need me I'll be downstairs or messing around on the landing. We turned most of the second story into sort of a studio slash playroom, so watch where you step if you come upstairs to find me. The lights are always on but it's pretty cluttered."

Kurogane ruminated over this a moment and then finally curiosity - which he mentally categorized as perplexity due to the blond failing to make any sense - overcame him.

"So...what, you're a vampire? You only sleep when the sun's blazing?" He managed to startle a bright laugh from the hotelier with this query, and had to wait a bit for his answer as the baby snuffled and startled. Fai slapped a hand over his mouth and gave a muffled apology while Kurogane shifted the baby, cradling her more snugly with one arm and bouncing her gently to soothe her back down. She was limp and drooling again in just a few seconds, but it took the blond a bit longer to satisfy himself that she was snoozing peacefully.

"Can I choose dare instead of truth?" Fai finally asked, whisper-soft, glancing up through the fringe of his bangs with a playful grin.

"I dare you to tell me why I shouldn't expect to find you sleeping in bed like a normal person in the middle of the night," Kurogane countered.

"Cheater," came the accusation, accompanied by a pout that would have been adorable on a three year old, but only served to make the hotelier look (_kissable_) ridiculous.

"We're not even really playing," the shopkeeper shot back with an exasperated sigh, conveniently bypassing the fact that he'd gone along with the truth and dare options at first. "I was just asking a question."

"Well let's pick it up again-"

"Because that went so well," Kurogane interrupted sarcastically, but got flatly ignored.

"-and I get to go first, since you went last," finished Fai, with a triumphant sort of smile. It was very canary-digesting cat, and made the taller man feel that the blond was up to something. Or after something. _Again_, damn it all. In any case, Fai seemed about to do or say something that would make Kurogane's blood pressure spike once more.

"Tell me more about your parents," Fai said rather abruptly, and it was such an unexpected request that Kurogane just blinked at him for a moment.

"That's not a question," he grumbled, perplexed, "and you didn't even lead off with 'truth or dare'."

Fai flapped his hand dismissively.

"We always stick with truth anyway. We'll save some time and just trade information."

"That isn't Truth or Dare; that's just _talking_."

"So talk to me," Fai encouraged him, in a tone that heavily implied a silent "silly bear" at the end. The blond head nodded at the baby. "It's not like you have anything else pressing to attend to until her cat nap is over." Kurogane narrowed his eyes at the equilibrium destroying, nosy, noisy personal space invader before him and tried to figure out how he'd gotten into this predicament, and what his options were. The mental exercise was becoming something of a habit, and once again the presence of the infant was getting in the way of his more violent ideas.

While he wished that his host would see fit to give him some space, he decided that flatly demanding to be left alone probably wouldn't get him the kind of peace and quiet that he wanted. Imagination provided unpleasant visions of awkward silences and stilted conversations, with the rebuffed blond either ramping up into frustratingly false cheerfulness to sugar-coat the tension or sullen coldness to punish his ungrateful guest.

He remembered thinking he might as well make the most of his current situation, and wondered if Fai had had the same thought.

Still, he couldn't really see why the blond would want to know more about him when the frail tie that they were weaving between them would be snapped in a week or so. Maybe even just a few days. But then again, this was the man who'd chatted up a cab driver on the way up here and wanted to send his love to two yappy little dogs that he would never lay eyes on. The hotelier liked fussing over people. Perhaps this eagerness after knowing more about others was just another thing that made him who he was.

"Fine," Kurogane eventually sighed. "What do you want to know? And _don't _say 'everything'."

Thin lips pursed into a thoughtful pout for a couple of seconds, Fai having apparently been on the verge of answering with exactly that one word.

"Well, start at the beginning. Tell me how they met."

His parents' romance was a story he knew by heart, having heard it almost all his life. He could still hear his father's voice in his mind, always leading off with the exact same words.

"It was raining," Kurogane said, eyes flicking over to the window briefly as if he expected to see the young couple standing outside. "My mother got caught out without an umbrella, and my father lent her his."

Blue eyes were intent on him, and after a few seconds ticked by, pale eyebrows quirked expectantly over them.

"What?" the dark-haired man asked defensively, responding to the unspoken question. "You asked me how they met. That's it."

"What am I going to do with you?" said Fai mock-mournfully, shaking his head and sighing. "Okay fine, tell me all about how they met, fell in love, got married and ended up having such a grumpy cub."

Kurogane almost protested not getting a turn but then remembered that they weren't playing games anymore. It wasn't as if he had any burning questions to ask anyway. He gave in with a sigh and began the tale after taking a moment to organize the memories, like setting up cue cards for a speech.

He'd never had occasion to tell it before but all the details were carved deep into his mind, told and retold to him by his father countless times. At first it had been a favorite bedtime tale for a young boy to whom his parents' romance was as great and grand an adventure as a story about a knight rescuing a princess. Later his father would launch into the story at every fair opportunity just to tease his son as he grew into all the confusion and awkwardnesses of youth. The man had laughed and joked and the boy had pretended to disgusted with the old tale, but listened with a strange sort of secret pride that his parents should still be so grossly in love after all these years. And later still, it had been a tale told only on special occasions, when the father would look forward to the day when his son might leave home on his own adventures, find his own regal beauty to rescue and romance, and discover a new hearth and home to claim for his own.

But then the man had died, and the son had curled up in the cold ashes of his old life and not stirred from them.

An old tale, not told in years, but still perfectly intact in his memories. Once he got started it was easy enough to continue. Kurogane's eyes rested on some random patch of wall while his vision turned inward to watch the movie his imagination had compiled over the years with the aid of photographs and his father's narratives.

Kurogane recited and remembered, and as the words spilled from his mouth found that it felt good to speak of them, now. Remembering didn't always have to come with regret, sharp and cruel. Just as with his nightmare, the warmth and presence of other people near him (_close enough to grab if he wanted, close enough to hold and protect, and he __wanted_) made all the difference.

Being able to cradle the little princess he'd picked up along the way in this very strange day had soothed the old pain of empty arms. Her demanding cries had smothered the memory of imagined wails. And now, instead of only having to regret his parents' loss in speaking of them, he felt a strange satisfaction in letting this practically-a-stranger get to know them. Sharing the knowledge of those good and giving people seemed to strengthen the memory of them, even though Fai naturally had no love for people he'd never known, and therefore could feel no real pain in understanding that they were gone. He could appreciate who they'd been, though. He could remember them without mourning them, and that seemed a good and right thing, somehow.

Good and right, just like the parents Kurogane remembered.

His father, gentle and kind, but also brave and brawny. Very few had ever attempted to taunt or take advantage of his sweet nature because of how unafraid he had been to wade into a fight, but no one had ever decried him for a bully either because he'd never fought without good cause. Injustice had particularly stung the young man and most of the fights - verbal or otherwise - he'd involved himself in could have been categorized as rescue missions. None of the actual neighborhood bullies had been safe from being at least interrupted and pestered to rethink their amusements if he happened upon them, even if they had been picking on something so ignominious and ignorable as a spider.

In defending the weak, Kurogane's father had not been acting the hero; rather it had been a natural result of his caring nature. He hadn't been officious or overbearing; he'd simply been unable to resist any opportunity to aid and assist. Those around him had naturally benefited, and it had proven a boon to the man himself; it had gained him the love of his life.

Kurogane's mother had been small and weak and prone to coughs and colds from birth, but her condition had been mild enough in her early years that she'd still managed to grow up pretty and pink-cheeked, and with a taste for freedom and fresh air. By the time her parents began to truly worry for their daughter's health, it was too late; she'd wriggled free from their anxious arms and refused to give up her daily walks regardless of the weather, roaming all about in quest of a pretty flower or berry-laden twig to put in a vase, or "making her calls", as she put it.

She'd picked up the old-fashioned notion while reading Regency era romances. It had appealed to her kindly nature and strong sense of duty, and soon everyone to whom she'd felt that she owed any attention had been able to count on regularly having her stop by their home or haunt to say hello and pass a bit of time in friendly chat. For some of her social contacts, cans of cat food had been substituted for the chatter.

An unexpected shower had caught her unawares on one such round of calls, and fate had sent her a knight with an easy grin and a black umbrella. She'd been damp and not a little frizzy, with her arms full of little tins of Fancy Feast, but had enchanted her rescuer immediately despite all this. The rain hadn't been able to damp the sparkle in her eyes and her smile had blinded the young man to the cat food. Once she'd expressed unwillingness to stay under shelter while the rain made the neighborhood's feral cats even more uncomfortable, her new friend had accompanied her for the rest of the afternoon, holding the umbrella directly over her with cheerful unconcern for his own increasingly soggy state.

Happily optimistic about similar weather conditions for the remainder of the week, the young man had offered - and been ecstatic in having his offer accepted - his umbrella-holding services and company again. He'd bought a bigger umbrella and made her laugh at the way he would constantly circle around her, trying to serve as a windbreak. Her human friends had enjoyed his hearty laugh, and the feral cats had soon been ensconced in handmade cat-houses built from wood scraps and lined with carpet remnants. Even after the rain had dried up, their acquaintance had not, and it had not been long before the two young people had gone from chance acquaintances to friends, developed from friends to best friends, and then made a short hop to love.

She'd been impressed by his integrity, and he by her zest for life that not even repeated bouts of bronchitis and pneumonia could tamp down. She'd made him sweaters, and he'd bought her scarves and mittens. She'd let him fuss over her but only up to a certain point, and he'd admired her independence even while arguing that she didn't take care of herself well enough. She'd respected and loved him. He had worshipped her.

He'd proposed with a ridiculously intricate cat-sized two-story log cabin with a diamond ring hung up on the front door like a knocker, and a promise to build her a similar - albeit much larger - one if she didn't mind a rather long wait while he saved up for the building materials. As soon as she'd stopped giggling over the gift, she'd said yes.

The dream of a human-sized log cabin had taken a long time to realize, but finally one day - after graduation, months of planning, years of hard work and a small but sweet wedding - a beaming young man had swept his pale, pretty wife off her feet and carried her up the few front steps and across the porch to their new nest. She'd been giggling but then stopped suddenly as they'd approached the threshold, reaching out one hand to grab at the plastic teething ring hanging on the door. Her husband had only added this whimsical little touch to represent what he hoped for, just as he'd hung her engagement ring on the cat-cabin, but she'd held it up and stared at him in surprise.

"How did you know?" she'd asked her husband wonderingly. "I only just found out myself yesterday morning."

"He told me he stumbled in the doorway and almost dropped her," Kurogane snorted, and then had to pause as Fai dissolved into laughter, poorly muffled into the back of one slender hand. It felt like a good stopping point anyway, and Kurogane took a breath and cleared his throat a few times. He was a little hoarse, not being accustomed to talking so much, and began to regret not getting a second cup of coffee.

"Oh," Fai cooed once he'd recovered his lung function, looking like he'd just read the most treacly Hallmark card in all of Colorado and thoroughly enjoyed it. "_Oh_, that is adorable. _They're _adorable. Tell me more."

"No," Kurogane replied, but it wasn't a growl or snap. Instead it came out easily, mellow and comfortable, and he followed it up with an explanation of sorts. "My voice is going to give out, and besides, you asked for their romance, not their marriage."

"Their romance ended after they got married?" the blond asked, one dubiously quirked eyebrow disappearing into his bangs.

"Well, no," the shopkeeper admitted. "They were still acting like lovestruck teenagers when _I _was a teenager, in fact."

"Well then," Fai said triumphantly, "that means you haven't finished telling the story." Kurogane gave in with a short sigh but did not immediately resume the tale.

"Later. I need something to drink."

His host was immediately on his feet, pattering off to the kitchen and only pausing before rounding a corner to get his guest's order. Kurogane decided with a snort of amusement that Fai might be built like a stork but acted like a hen.

"More coffee? Or tea? I have Earl Grey, Lady Grey, English Breakfast...oh, if you want green tea I have both gunpowder and gyokurou...or maybe something cold? I have milk, grapefruit juice, white grape juice, sparkling water, I think there might be beer, too, India pale ale and something wheaty..."

Kurogane abruptly cut in when his patience gave out before the beverage options did.

"Just water," he called out, with a touch of exasperation. "Non-sparkly." There was enough sparkly happening on his toe already, thanks. The baby stirred a bit as he raised his voice, and he shifted in the window seat so that he could bounce her back to sleep again. Moving suddenly made him realize that he felt a little gross from his nightmare, and he wondered about the possibility of handing the infant off to the other man for a while so that he could go shower.

Fai poked his head out from the kitchen, but instead of a glass of water, he held up the bottle of whiskey the shopkeeper had brought from his store and wiggled it.

"There's also this," the blond suggested. Kurogane eyed the alcohol for a moment but then shook his head.

"You're not being annoying enough right now for me to need it," he admitted. "Water's fine." This teased a laugh out of Fai, as well as some light-hearted speculation about what antics might have to be pulled in order for the bottle to get cracked open, and finally a tumbler of ice water.

They traded the infant and the drink, Fai cozying himself into the window seat again after setting the water down on a nearby table and Kurogane carefully shifting his limp little bundle into the other man's waiting arms. A good stretch and a gulp of water later, the shopkeeper drifted back to the window and decided to revive an earlier question while finishing his drink.

"So," he said casually as he sat down again in the opposite corner. "Tell me how you became a vampire." He got a look of pure confusion at first, all knitted up eyebrows and wide eyes, but then the blond recalled the conversation which had kicked off their latest exchange - one-sided, still - of information.

"Insomniac, actually," he said quietly, voice shaking a bit with barely suppressed laughter. "Not chronic though. I sleep fine when I'm at home."

Fai hesitated, nibbling in a bit of his lower lip before expanding on his explanation. "Well, not _at home _necessarily. I sleep fine when I'm with my brother, is what it really is. We're twins and have always been very close. It's not like I can psychically tell when he's near or not, but when we're apart like this I don't really sleep, just cat nap here and there."

The hotelier's gaze was steady as he stared across the few feet that separated them. His expression was almost challenging, or perhaps aggressively on the defensive, just waiting for Kurogane to pick up this new information and poke at the whole idea of the man having come up here for the sheer pleasure of suffering sleeplessness in this grand, empty cabin and missing the brother he admittedly could not rest well without. Kurogane did in fact recall the thought he'd had during their game of Truth or Dare, that the blond might be punishing himself by coming up here to endure loneliness and painful memories. Fai tended to blame himself for things, and guilty people sometimes craved, sought out or even caused self-inflicted punishment if no one else stepped forward to deal out justice or retribution.

That growing need to know (_to learn, to share in and to have_) more of this enigmatic and enchanting stranger did not extend into a decision to actually pry at that moment. Kurogane accepted what he was told, digested it in a thoughtful silence and then dropped his head to look at the infant contentedly drooling away in Fai's lap.

"You're lucky, Princess," he commented. "Neither of us sleeps much apparently, so you'll get all the attention you want."

"Lucky?" Fai objected, a doubtful smile twisting his lips. "She was left in a cab in the middle of winter."

"And found before she froze to death," Kurogane pointed out.

"By a complete stranger who almost dropped her," the blond added, briefly raising one hand with a regretful wrinkle of his nose.

"And another stranger who caught her before she hit the floor."

"But who are both, as mentioned, strangers."

"And humane enough to provide shelter, food and care."

"Through a terrible snowstorm."

"In a stupid-plushy cabin and _will you stop arguing with me?_"

"She has a peculiar kind of luck then," the blond concluded with a soft smile and careful caress of one dimpled little hand. "Unfortunate things happen to her, but her good luck keeps them from turning out badly. Think she was cursed and blessed at birth simultaneously, like Aurora? I guess your nickname of Princess is more fitting than we knew."

Kurogane shrugged and downed some more of his water. The conversation was taking a fanciful turn and he didn't feel like following it too far down the road. Fairy godmothers and evil witches might be lurking around a corner in that fair head, and then he'd just get annoyed all over again and the window seat was too comfortable (_the baby too cute and comforting, the blond too close and cozy_) to court such disturbances.

"If _she _ever tumbles into a little shack in the snow, it'll probably turn out to be full of cushions and kittens, with a kindly old grandmother baking cookies in the corner," Fai mused, curling one finger under the infant's free hand and stroking her tiny fingers.

And that was enough of _that_. Kurogane tossed back the last gulp and then stood up, drawing a curious query from his companion.

"Where are you going?"

"Shower," he replied succinctly.

"Do you want me to try feeding her the cereal if she wakes up soon?" Fai asked, and the taller man nodded after a brief pause to ponder the suggestion over. And to be faintly impressed at the blond having asked a sensible question instead of whining about being left alone.

"Yeah. Just mix one tablespoon from that rice cereal box in with the formula and bottle feed her like usual. Give it a few tries and if she just won't take it, you can just give her plain formula."

The hotelier's face wrinkled a bit into a perplexed frown, and Kurogane wondered if the man had been envisioning pouring flakes into a bowl, adding formula, and then digging in with a spoon.

"...or wait for me to get out of the shower," he added, and was rewarded with a rather relieved smile and nod.

"I'll read the box and do some Googling on my phone," Fai decided. "If I scare myself I'll just wait for you."

Kurogane gave one last nod and then turned away, walking off to leave his glass in the sink and then try to scrub his brains back into place in the shower. Once he was out of sight of the blond, the ease of manner he'd unthinkingly slipped into dissipated and left him feeling a bit disoriented. He wasn't certain if he felt off balance because of the fact that talking to Fai of his parents had been so unexpectedly soothing, or despite it. Or even if it was because he was so unused to having such a wealth of comforting companionship, or the very fact that he was finding it comforting.

Whatever it was, he hoped that hot water would not just sluice off the last remnants of his latest nightmare, but also help him figure out whether letting Fai get closer to him was smart or stupid. What had seemed so cut and dry earlier today was getting fuzzier by the hour.


	7. Chapter 7

Twenty minutes later he hadn't gotten anything figured out but was feeling quite a bit better, and only minimally due to the fact that the shimmery pink fairy princess bandaid was now in the trash bin. He'd been relieved to find that the shower had simple and perfectly sensible controls despite being ridiculously large and possessing two more shower heads than a normal person needed, and even more relieved that he'd thought to bring his own soap and shampoo. After setting down his plain bar of soap next to the array of suspiciously fruity-floral looking bottles already in the metal caddy, Kurogane stood a while under the hot spray, turning slowly to let the water rinse away the suds that still clung to him.

It felt good. He was warm, comfortable, calm..._soothed_. Not just the fat droplets drumming steadily against his body and the way he could feel his own weight anchoring him down solidly to the irregularly shaped tiles under his feet, but this whole strange hiccup in his life was turning out to be bizarrely enjoyable. Caring for a baby again; feeding and changing and holding her. Letting someone get near to him; relaxing and talking and sharing together. Things that had been high on the never-again list that he hadn't admitted that he had because he'd thought they would only resurrect painful memories at full strength. It hadn't occurred to him that it was only the _loss_ that hurt and that keeping his arms and heart empty was actually perpetuating the pain, not suppressing it.

His thoughts meandered, trying to untangle themselves as his body continued relaxing into the warmth of the water, and so it was perhaps unsurprising that Kurogane nearly had a heart attack and almost broke his neck at the same time when Fai suddenly burst into the bathroom, yelling for him. The shopkeeper startled so badly that "flailed" was the only word to properly describe his reaction, and just barely saved himself from slipping and falling by slamming his hands against the glass walls of the shower stall to brace himself.

His shocked oaths were drowned out by the squeak of his hands against the glass and some frantic babbling from the other side of it, and some of the blond's panic soon transmitted itself to Kurogane when he remembered the third occupant of the cabin. Condensation obscured his view and the combined noise from the water and his thundering heartbeat muddied his hearing, so the shopkeeper gave the tap a violent wrench to shut it off and then threw open the door, making Fai backpedal quickly as the glass swung out, though it didn't make him stop talking.

"-did exactly what you said I swear, I checked the temperature and I used the right box and I don't know why-"

Kurogane only half-listened as he stepped quickly out of the stall and raked his gaze over the hotelier, imagining all sorts of terrible accidents (_first sleep and now showers; he was going to develop a serious neurosis about doing __anything__ while there was an infant under his care_) and then pausing at the sight of the baby girl safe and sound and looking about as confused as he himself was beginning to feel. Fai was holding her in both arms, but for some reason had the infant slung sideways across his ribcage, her head cradled in the crook of one arm and little limbs waving uncertainly. She was making little mewing noises barely audible underneath her caretaker's continued talking and though her face was scrunching up unhappily she looked fine.

Tan hands came up to rake dripping hair out of his eyes so that a better second look could be taken, but with no different conclusions drawn. He stared hard enough to feel the strain behind his eyes but saw no blood, no swelling or angry red burns, not even a little welt or blossoming bruise, and most importantly there were no tears or piercing shrieks telling him he should be looking for the reason that she was crying and Fai was freaking out.

"Will you shut up for a second?" Kurogane snapped, finally bringing his eyes back up to the blond. He had to repeat the main part of his request and put his hands out in a classic _stop_ gesture before Fai finally wound down. One dark eyebrow quirked up at the way the blond was practically hopping in place in agitation, and then the shopkeeper blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.

"What happened, and why the hell are you holding her like that?" he asked in pure perplexity.

"She threw up!" Fai blurted, his face all crinkled up in anxiety. "I'm making sure she's on her left side so she doesn't choke. I didn't poison her I swear, I checked-"

"Moron, that is what you do for blackout drunks, not sick babies." Kurogane interrupted before the guilt-ridden man could get going again on his confession, his own voice a mix of exasperation, disbelief and amusement. "Here, let me see her." He reached for the baby with damp hands and managed to wrangle her away from the flustered, fluttery man after a moment so that he could give her a more thorough once-over.

"_Ammm,_" she complained to him once she was upright again, and at closer quarters he noticed that her chin and pajamas were liberally decorated with spit-up. He took a quick sniff to confirm his diagnosis, gave her a few pats and pokes and watched her critically for a few more moments to confirm that she was not unduly distressed, and finally gave a short sigh of relief.

"She's fine," he reported, cradling her against his bare chest and giving her an apologetic pat. _Sorry, Princess. I shouldn't have left you in the hands of a bird-brain._ "She just spit up a little. Babies do that. In fact I'm surprised she hasn't been doing it already." His relief turned into resignation as he realized that cradling her close had transferred some of the sticky mess to him, and then he froze when the thought of _great, I just took a shower_ turned into _no scratch that; I was __taking__ a shower_.

Kurogane had a staring contest with the baby as a couple of seconds ticked ever so slowly by. Years spent living alone had gotten him out of the habit of locking doors, and it had suddenly risen up and bitten him squarely in the ass. He blinked, and a bead of cooling water fell from one clumped-together section of hair to splat against his forearm, then slipped down past his elbow and over his stomach before sliding coyly along his inner thigh. Yep, he was definitely still naked. It was almost surprising that he hadn't been able to hear the droplet hit, since it had gotten so suddenly silent in the steam-filled bathroom. The baby stared quite calmly back at him while trying to eat the fingers of her left hand, and off in his peripheral vision, Fai had also gone completely quiet and still.

Brown eyes gone suddenly hard and glittery shifted slowly but surely toward the hotelier, and Kurogane's torso swelled with rage, not just the breath he was drawing in.

"_You_," he ground out venomously, and the slender statue flinched back into life. Blue eyes were ripped away - and _up_ - and then hastily flung into a random corner of the bathroom.

"Um," Fai said, and then left his lips pressed together, biting them as if trying to keep himself from blurting out anything that might further damage his chances of survival. Color rode high on his cheeks as he stared fixedly at nothing, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if fighting a smile.

"You _knew_ there was nothing wrong with her," Kurogane accused him, fuming, steaming and still _naked_ damn it all because he couldn't think of anywhere to put the baby so that he could make himself semi-decent. Getting close enough again to hand her back to the other man was currently off the table for obvious reasons.

"_No_," came the immediate protest, accompanied by a shake of that blond head and an earnest look. "I didn't. I promise." The look didn't last very long; as soon as those wide-open blue eyes locked with his they seemed to stumble and fall down to his chest, and with a quick inhale the blond was flinging his gaze away again before it could drop any further.

"I really thought something was wrong," Fai told the medicine cabinet. "I didn't know what else to do except come and get you, and the fact that you were in the shower just...didn't register. Well, at least not at first." Blue eyes tentatively flickered over again, and this time the blond let his mouth go and smiled, half penitent, half totally not.

"...I'm sorry?" The cautious apology was accompanied by outstretched arms. "Well anyway since she's all right, let me take her back so you can get back to your shower. Which...I interrupted. With pure intentions, I assure you."

Fai seemed sincere, if a little too amused at the situation and not just a little too distracted by the peep show unintentionally put on for him, and Kurogane attempted to vent the rest of his anger in a deep sigh of resignation at the topsy turvy mess his life was right now.

"Whatever. I was done anyway," he grumbled dismissively. A couple of steps brought him within arm's reach of the current torment of his life and he grimaced at the way the goopy patch on his torso cooled as the baby was peeled away and handed off.

"Go get her changed," he ordered as he reached for a towel and took a couple of swipes at the spit-up on his chest. "There's another set of pj's in my bag. I'll be out in a few minutes and then I'll put her to bed." Fai paused in the doorway, half in and half out and still struggling a bit with keeping his eyes where politeness dictated that they ought to be.

"Won't she be hungry if she's just yucked up everything I fed her though?" the blond asked the doorframe. "Should I make her another bottle?"

He almost tossed off a quick negative and left it at that, but paused as he realized that he didn't know exactly how much the baby had spit up nor the amount she'd been able to drink down before this unfortunate interruption. The shopkeeper stepped close again, one hand rising to lightly nudge the infant's cheek a few times. The towel was held in front of him but only absently, his mind too absorbed with the infant to care much for modesty. Hazy blue eyes looked up at him but he didn't get any open-mouthed nuzzling, and so he shook his head.

"She doesn't seem hungry. She probably didn't spit up all that much; it just looked like a lot to you." Kurogane only got a rather absent-minded sounding hum in acknowledgement and shifted his gaze to the blond, cocking an eyebrow at the way Fai was looking up at him with a wry twist of a smile. At such close quarters he could even see a faint frown knitting together behind the messy fall of long bangs.

"What?" the shopkeeper demanded, dripping water and irritability.

"I can't figure out if you're being mean or are just plain oblivious," came the cryptic reply, making Kurogane roll his eyes.

"And I can't figure you out at all," he admitted, and then brought a large hand down on that fluffy head, clamping down with his fingers and firmly turning the hotelier away from the bathroom. "Get out. Get her changed."

"Bossy bear," Fai accused, but he stepped out obediently without any further comment and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Kurogane to get dried off and dressed in peace.

The tiled room was ridiculously spacious considering it was just one of the guest bathrooms, and the shopkeeper had brought in a change of clothes with him so that he needn't tramp back to his bedroom in just a towel. He quickly went about wiping down the shower and fixing his coffee breath with a good brushing, and then had to stand around for a couple of minutes to finish cooling down. He always ran on the hot side and would have started to sweat right through his clothes if he'd gotten dressed immediately after toweling off.

Dark grey sweatpants went on first, and then Kurogane paused as he caught sight of his injured toe. It wasn't bleeding out afresh but the shower had washed away all the ointment, leaving the wound looking wet and raw. Not that he particularly cared if Fai had to spend a few extra dollars on cleaning the carpets, but the naturally fastidious man balked at the idea of dotting around the cabin leaving little red marks wherever he went. The shopkeeper went to the medicine cabinet to poke around for a new bandage, resigning himself to more sparkly pink crap on his body and consoling himself with the fact that he could at least cover it up with a clean sock. He froze in place when his eyes landed on a box of comfort-flex Band-Aid brand adhesives in assorted sizes, all in a pale, plain flesh tone with not a single fairy princess in sight.

Kurogane closed his eyes and tried counting to ten, but he only made it to three before snapping his eyes open again and snatching the thin cardboard box off of the shelves with a vicious swipe.

Faint strains of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" could be heard coming from the bedroom assigned to the two guests of the cabin, and Kurogane homed in on the sound, jaw tight and fists clenched. How he might have cornered and fallen upon his prey if it was just the two of them was not hard to deduce, but as before the presence of the infant acted as a choke chain on the hot-tempered man.

He strode purposefully down the hall and almost left dents in the doorknob with his grip, but the door was merely swung open, not slammed against the wall to come rebounding on the shopkeeper as he tracked down his quarry. He didn't grab Fai and make him eat the bandaids, either. Dark eyes almost throwing sparks landed first upon the baby girl, clad now in a muted pink onesie decorated with tiny white flowers, being cradled close and quietly serenaded. Just as it had at the foot of the stairs in his home, all his ire softened at the sight of the little girl being so tenderly cared for. She was not yet asleep but seemed only a few blinks away from it, all curled up and quiescent as she was with heavy-lidded eyes drowsily tracking back and forth between lazy blinks as she was waltzed around the room.

The singing and slow, swaying steps stopped at Kurogane's abrupt entrance and Fai turned to face him with quirked eyebrows and a calm smile at the ready, but this expression was quickly succeeded by blank surprise and then - strangely enough - a resurgence of that somewhat petulant frown-and-smile combination.

"All right, now you're just being mean," Fai said. His voice was a low murmur, but there were no other noises to compete with it save for the faint howl of the wind outside, and the words came through clearly. The accuser-turned-accused shook his head slightly as if trying to clear the cobwebs of confusion from his brain.

"Me?" Kurogane demanded, keeping his voice down to a rumble instead of a snarl while he shook the little carton in his hand at his host. "You're the one sticking stupid glittery bandaids on me and telling me they're the only ones you've got."

Blue eyes flickered over the somewhat menacing presence in the doorway and noted the little carton held - crunched - in one fist.

"That wasn't mean, nor was it a lie," said the blond, strangely cool in manner now. The smile was slipping away but the frown remained. Despite having come here to confront Fai with his little lie and subsequent trick, Kurogane began to feel as if he was the one who'd misstepped.

"I told you that those were the only bandaids I had in my bathroom, and they are," Fai continued. "I didn't say that they were the only ones I had in the cabin. And making you stalk around with a pretty princess on your toe is mischievous at most, not mean. That would be your department."

Kurogane frowned, naturally wanting to attack the other man on his childish sense of humor but hesitating at the repeated insistence that he himself was deserving of chastisement for his behavior. He felt like he was missing part of the conversation and chased after clarity instead of launching into a harangue.

"All right, what's with all the 'mean' comments?"

Fai had swiveled away again, still slowly bouncing the dozy infant, and he looked back over his shoulder. The smile was entirely gone now as he explained himself again.

"'Look but don't touch' is nothing if not mean," the hotelier stated. "You know I'm interested in you but you don't want to pursue anything. Fine. But I'd appreciate it if you'd stop parading around undressed-"

"I am not _parading around undressed_-" Kurogane protested. As he stood there in nothing but a pair of thin sweat pants.

Fai did not derail the main argument to discuss how much clothing constituted being fully dressed, half dressed or undressed. Instead he fixed a sharp look on the taller man and delivered an ultimatum.

"Put a shirt on or I'm going to take this to mean that you've reconsidered and are clumsily attempting to seduce me."

Kurogane opened his mouth, automatically wanting to protest the "clumsy" jab, but then snapped it shut again as he realized how stupid the impulse was. Arguing over how effectively he was trying to seduce the other man would only confirm that he was, in fact, trying. Which he wasn't. He pressed his lips into a thin line, returning that challenging stare with a glower for lack of ideas about what else to do, then whirled about and marched back to the bathroom to finish getting dressed.

The dark-haired man returned to the bedroom wearing a bit more clothing and exuding a lot less ire. The box of bandaids was back in the medicine cabinet minus one small adhesive strip, and his right hand was now holding a zip-up hoodie that he was still too warm to want to put on. A plain white t-shirt and socks made him decent enough for casual company and he paused in the open doorway, poking his head in instead of just striding right back inside in case...well, he didn't really know what to expect. Or fear. Or hope for.

Instead of a bright challenging stare and aggressive stance, he was greeted by the sight of the long, lanky figure curled up cross-legged on the bed, spine curved and fair hair falling like a curtain all around his face as he stared down at the little pink and white form in his arms. The baby was cradled close to Fai's body, draped along one forearm and cuddling quite contentedly into the available body heat. She seemed to have fallen asleep and her living cradle was no longer singing, only softly stroking one rosy cheek with a finger, barely getting close enough to actually make contact.

Kurogane stepped into the room, pushing the door wider though there was already enough room to let him in and letting the faint noise and movement announce his arrival. The blond head lifted and two blue eyes fixed on him immediately. There was a brief assessing look during which the shopkeeper felt himself unaccountably straighten up a fraction, and then he was offered a smile. Faint at first, growing quickly and finally warm and wide, spreading to the man's eyes and relaxing shoulders that he hadn't realized were tensed.

He moved closer, first to peer down at the infant and then to indicate with a look and jerk of his head that Fai should get off of the bed. A bit of cautious wriggling later, the blond was standing in the middle of the room, slowly bouncing back and forth on his feet to keep his little charge firmly planted in slumberland. Kurogane began turning down the bed, and while he wrestled with the ridiculously fluffy comforter, glanced over his shoulder briefly to speak to his companion.

"Sorry," he offered a bit awkwardly. One voice in his head argued strenuously that he hadn't done a damned thing wrong and shouldn't have to even _feel_ like he ought to apologize. Another voice, more reasonable and right and therefore generally gaining the upper hand, responded that no matter his intentions - or lack thereof - he had made his host uncomfortable and at least owed the man an apology if nothing else. He heard no response from the hotelier, and comforter, blankets, sheet and pillows were methodically removed one by one in utter silence until all that remained over the mattress was the fitted sheet.

Ruddy eyes cut back again and this time lingered, caught by the sight of Fai standing still and just smiling at him in a fond and rather bemused fashion. Kurogane straightened up from looming over the mattress and gave the other man a _what?_ sort of look, making Fai huff faintly in laughter and shake his head.

"Nothing," the blond murmured, still looking softly happy. Content and satisfied, like a cat in a patch of sunlight. "It's nice to know you don't have a mean streak after all. Just a thick skull."

Dark eyes narrowed at this last bit, but Kurogane had no desire to start another unexpected tiff after which he'd find himself feeling an inexplicable need to apologize. It was late, the relaxing aftereffects of the shower were lasting longer than those of its unfortunately tense denouement, and the atmosphere was peaceful and cozy. He had no desire to let his temper wreck all this unnecessarily. Satisfying himself with just growling at the lighthearted insult, Kurogane turned back to his work, and the stripped-down bed was carefully moved across the carpet until two sides of it were flush against the walls. After all the bedding was folded and left in a fluffy stack on the floor near the foot of the bed, the shopkeeper gave the whole arrangement a nod of satisfaction before turning and reaching out to take the little girl into his own arms.

Fai had been watching him with curious interest but at this, the blond blinked at him in surprise and twisted his upper body a bit, playing keep-away with the baby.

"You can't just plunk her down on nothing but a mattress and a bare sheet," the blond protested in a quiet yet clearly off-put murmur, frowning slightly at the bed. The hotelier was probably offended by the spartan accommodations being offered to their little princess. The taller rolled his eyes at the need for yet another baby care lesson as he replied.

"I can, I will and I _should_," he replied. "Pillows and blankets are smother hazards."

Fai seemed to see the logic in this after just a quick ponder, but immediately came up with another protest.

"But what if she rolls off the bed?"

"I don't think she's old enough to roll over even once," Kurogane posited, and to cut off any further argument based on a lack of absolute certainty, added, "and I'll be sleeping on the outside edge anyway."

"She might roll the other way."

"Through the wall?" Kurogane asked dryly. "I doubt she's capable of picking up that much speed."

"She might get stuck between the wall and bed."

"Oh for-" The dark-haired man bit off the impolite imprecation welling up over his tongue and whirled away, bending swiftly to snatch up the loose sheet he'd folded up and set aside. It was partially unfurled and then rolled tightly to make a long sausage of fabric, and then Kurogane spent some time muttering darkly to himself while tucking it under the inside edge of the fitted sheet. It made a nice little bumper along the long edge against the wall, and he turned back to the blond with a grumpy sigh.

"Happy?"

"What about the head of the bed?"

"She's not going to rotate in place in her sleep and then go rolling off," he hissed, barely remembering to keep his voice down to levels acceptable for use around sleeping babies.

Fai gave him a wounded look and then glanced unhappily between the infant and the bed a few times, his expression conveying a conviction that these might be his last moments with the baby were he to hand her trustingly over to be laid onto the cotton covered death trap. Kurogane withstood the waffling but found himself caving in when the blond turned those big blue eyes onto him and threw in an anxious nibble of a lower lip. A thin blanket was retrieved from the floor with a grumble and tucked under the fitted sheet next, creating a low hill at the head of the mattress.

"Happy _now_?" Kurogane asked, expecting a quiet cheer or something. Instead Fai gazed sorrowfully at the foot of the bed.

"You've got to be kidding me," the dark-haired man growled.

"But-" Fai began, and immediately got cut off.

"No. We're done. Get out." Kurogane reached for the infant once more, and this time succeeded in getting her out of the hotelier's overprotective clutches.

"Mean," Fai accused, but this time the word held no frosty bite and instead of making the taller man pause in unease, it only drew forth a derisive snort.

"Good _night_," Kurogane said, with more command than courtesy, and herded his host out of the room. He nudged the door most of the way shut with one foot, muffling the stream of complaints about ill-tempered and ill-mannered grizzlies, and then turned back to actually take a good look at his quarters for the night. The overhead light was off but a lamp on a bedside table filled the room with a warm glow, pushing the darkness back until it was nothing but faint shadows pooling in the folds of the blanket thrown over the chair in the corner and lingering underneath the desk, behind the table and bed.

Like the parts of the cabin he had already familiarized himself with, the guest bedroom was expensively furnished but also tastefully so. The theme of nature-inspired colors and simple furnishings only dressed up with splashes of color or texture here and there continued. The room was predominantly oatmeal-ish, both in wall and carpet color and the nubby texture of the upholstery and curtains. The plainness was broken up with dark brown wood, brassy accessories and dark green trim, burnt orange-red blankets from the bed and on a chair by the window, and a framed piece of art on one wall made of random curls of birch bark interwoven with branches that looked like a royal bitch to dust but was pleasing to the eye.

Even better than the decor was the fact that he had it all to himself now, and Kurogane exhaled slowly, reveling in the silence. No less worthy of reveling in was the warm little bundle draped against his chest, but it took him a few more seconds to realize that she was providing the lion's share of the contentment that he was experiencing.

The tall figure bowed slightly, hunching over as if to try and curl himself around this little nucleus of damp heat, muscular arms tightening about the infant ever so slightly. Kurogane rested his face against the head of short blond fuzz, not nuzzling or scattering kisses as her other temporary caretaker had done but simply taking in her scent. The evocative smell of baby powder mingled with a faint hint of soap and the mealy scent of formula, stirring up memories that he only hesitated at for a split second before letting them wash over him. He had no experience of the ocean but he thought suddenly occurred to him that facing the waves might be a little like this; so much easier when you didn't fight it.

Breaking out of his brief reverie, the dark-haired man pressed his lips to the top of the baby's head in a quick arguably-not-an-actual-kiss, then carefully set the infant down on the bed, placing her somewhat near the corner. Kurogane took a moment to turn off the bedside lamp - keeping one wary eye on the infant just in case she did in fact evidence a sudden talent for rolling - and then laid himself down as well. He sighed as he did so, but this time it wasn't aggravation or regret or any other such thing that had been drawing similar exhalations from him that day.

He sighed, and it was just a sigh, nothing more. If anything it was a satisfied sound; the long strange day was finally over, he was warm and clean, the mattress felt firm enough that he didn't fear waking up needing a chiropractor, and it was calming to be able to watch the rhythmic rise and fall of the baby's torso as she slumbered. He rolled over onto his side and let his hand fall just by the little girl, not weighing her down but close enough to feel her move against the backs of his fingers as she breathed.

Instead of counting sheep, Kurogane began marking off her breaths, and fell asleep before he got to thirty.


	8. Chapter 8

He came suddenly awake and blinked rapidly, the remnants of a dream slipping away and leaving him disoriented in its wake. He couldn't recall what the dream had been about but he knew for certain that it had not been the same nightmare that disrupted almost every night of his life, and that in and of itself was unusual enough to make him feel a bit out of it. His heart rate and breathing were calm, his body was relaxed, and there was just this strange feeling of straining after some noise to make him a tiny bit anxious to know why he'd woken.

The room was still dark, but light from the hallway filtered in past the slightly cracked-open door and let him see faintly. The infant was happily right where he'd left her; in front of his face and within arm's reach. He stared at her fixedly for a few seconds to confirm that she was breathing before letting himself relax a notch. Kurogane then rolled over to squint at the digital clock on the bedside table and froze as a faint noise caught his attention.

A light snore.

He whipped his head back around and frowned suspiciously at the infant, but she was sleeping silently, and besides which the noise had seemed to come from somewhere around his feet. Kurogane carefully got up on one elbow and peered down the length of the bed, but saw nothing. Just as he was about to brush it off as his imagination or some misheard noise like a branch scraping against a window in another room, he heard another whisper-faint snore. Definitely coming from just beyond his socks. The shopkeeper sat the rest of the way up and crawled to the foot of the mattress to peer over the edge next, and spent a long moment just staring down in disbelief.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," he muttered quietly, shaking his head in a sleep-fuzzed mixture of befuddlement and bemusement.

The bedding that he'd stripped away and folded up neatly earlier had been unfolded most of the way to make a cushy pad on the floor, and there were six pillows - four more than had originally been in the room - packed close together on top of it like marshmallows rubbing cheeks across the top of a large graham cracker. He could have taken a dive off the bed face first and not bruised his nose, much less broken it.

It looked like a comfortable place to take a nap, but Fai was curled up on the carpet instead, just beyond what was apparently the hotelier's idea of a contingency plan in case of babies being able to roll five feet down a bed in their sleep and take a flying leap onto the floor. He lay on the outer edge of the redeployed bedding as if using his own body as an additional bulwark to separate the infant from the floor, still dressed in his sweater and slacks with his head pillowed on one arm and his free hand loosely cradling his smart phone. The man seemed to have fallen asleep while messing about with it and was now snoring faintly at odd intervals.

Kurogane peered at him for a while, rather surprised that he hadn't woken up during any of this sneaky bedding-shuffling within such close proximity. He wondered if he should be insulted at this proof that Fai's faith in his infant-related wisdom was not absolute, but found much more charitable feelings stirring instead. The blond had started off nearly dropping the poor mite and had seemed to pose a threat to her well-being through sheer ignorance, but was proving more and more to have her best interests at heart. The strange ways in which this caring cropped up were only adding to the endearing factor, and Kurogane found himself smiling faintly as he took in the calm, relaxed face below him.

He hesitated a moment before moving to wake the man, thinking that if Fai was an insomniac it might be doing him an injury to disturb any rest he was managing to get even if it was on the floor. He was also sorely tempted to choose this path of least effort from a simple desire to go back to sleep, but leaving his host snoozing away on the carpet didn't quite sit right with him and so Kurogane reached down and picked up one of the pillows, then promptly smacked that fair head with it.

His notions of politeness and propriety only stretched so far.

"Mmph!" Fai was scrabbling at the feather-fattened sack immediately, looking around in confusion with his eyes barely open. "Huh? What?"

"If you _are_ going to sleep after all, do it in a bed like a normal person," Kurogane recommended, his voice as dry as it could get at such a low volume. When he saw the other man groggily sit up and rub at sleep-grainy eyes like a child, he gave in to the siren song of his warm spot on the mattress and crawled back to it, trusting Fai to be able to find his way to the door. His trust in the hotelier's abilities were likely not misplaced, but his trust of the man's decision making skills turned out to be so. No sooner had he laid himself back down than the mattress dipped under another weight, and just as he came up on one elbow to confirm with his eyes what his brain was protesting as impossible because _come on_, a long, lean figure wormed its way into the space left between him and the infant.

"I meant in your _own_ bed," Kurogane clarified as acidly as possible. Which was not very acidly at all, given his drowsy state and how distracted he was trying not to be by all the signals his nerve endings were sending back to his brain. A faint warmth, the irregular ridges of cable-knitting on Fai's sweater catching slightly at his t-shirt in passing, a sock-clad foot investigating the space between his ankles; he felt it all as distinctly as if he had no clothes of his own getting in the way...and that was _not_ a mental image he needed at the moment.

Fai sleepily shushed him while spooning cozily into the tense curve of the taller's form with a languid squirm, which just made Kurogane growl and clench his hands - one into the sheets while trapped under a slim neck, the other floating in the air by a dark blue wool-clad shoulder with nowhere to land - into tight fists. His free-floating hand caught the blond's attention after a moment, and after making an interrogatory noise Fai reached up and tried tugging tanned fingers closer as if he were hoping to use the arm they were attached to as a blanket or shawl. Kurogane snatched his hand away as if burned by the contact.

"What do you think you're doing?" The question was ground out slowly, and the bits and pieces of chewed-up sentence seemed to fall down the neck of Fai's sweater and tickle him, because he shook faintly with laughter.

"Trying out this sleeping thing," came the rather groggy sounding response. A pale hand came up again to try and nab Kurogane's free hand for another tugging attempt.

"Quit that," Kurogane ordered, yanking his hand out of reach and then using it to jab his unwanted bedmate in the side. The whiny "ow" he got was mildly satisfying. "And you are _not_ sleeping here."

"No sleeping?" Fai queried, sounding somewhat more awake now. He turned his head to gaze up at the other man over one shoulder, a smile teasing at his lips. "You want to talk some more instead?"

"No."

"So let's sleep."

"Seriously, what the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to sleep, silly bear. Also flirting a little," the blond replied matter-of-factly before breaking into a big yawn, and the simplicity of the answer brought Kurogane up short. Surprise and confusion nudged ire aside, and the shopkeeper faltered a bit at receiving honesty instead of some outrageous excuse or attempt to deflect. Finding a safe place for his hand to rest bought him a bit of processing time, and when he finally settled for just draping it along his own side, he had his thoughts marshaled.

"I thought I'd made myself clear," he began, but Fai mm-hmm'd and cut in before he got the rest of his sentence out.

"You did. You don't want to start something doomed to be temporary."

"And yet here you are..." Kurogane prompted, frowning down in confusion.

"Because after some consideration, I have decided that you, my dear grizzly bear, made a serious tactical error."

"Allowing you to set foot in my store?"

"Nope," Fai replied with a brief, airy laugh and a little squirm that Kurogane felt along every inch of his body. "Refusing to let my misunderstanding stand. You should have let it be, or even told me flat out that you're not interested in me at all. But you started that 'something' that you didn't want to start when you admitted that you _are_ interested."

That silenced Kurogane, at least for a moment. It would be ridiculous to deny that there was in fact something between them already. He'd said it himself, and Fai had just confirmed it. There was interest.

Just because the blond was willing to pursue it didn't alter basic facts, however.

"It doesn't change anything," Kurogane said, voice still low to keep from knocking the sleep dust off of the baby. Or perhaps to hide the disappointment that he couldn't keep from creeping into his throat when he thought of the future together that didn't exist for the three people currently sharing the bed. He could make decisions all he wanted but the inclinations and _want_ weren't put aside so easily.

"Of course it does," came the blithe response. The other man was still speaking in that low, languid murmur, as easily as if they weren't arguing at all. "It already has. As you said...here I am."

"It still isn't going to _become_ anything...anything more, anything lasting," the dark-haired man clarified, words coming out crisper now, with frustration creeping audibly into his voice. There was no laugh this time, no subtle snuggling shift of that lithe body curled against him. Fai hadn't been wriggling incessantly or anything before, but Kurogane suddenly noticed that he'd fallen still.

Only briefly, however, and in the next breath Fai was wriggling and turning over, making the dark-haired man straighten up further on the elbow he was propping himself up with as he found himself face to face with the blond. He went a bit wide-eyed and prepared to fling himself backwards off of the bed, having little to no confidence any longer that he could predict how the other man would act or react.

"Your parents," Fai began, voice gone serious and barely visible face following suit. "Have you ever thought that they made a mistake chasing after their dream, considering your mother's health? They might still be alive today if they'd just settled in the suburbs and settled for a goldfish instead of going for a cabin and kids, after all."

Kurogane didn't answer at first; only bit the fingers of his free hand into his sweatpants and clenched his jaw to stifle his first reaction. Insult, anger, something very near _rage_ welled up in his chest and stuck in his throat that someone should question his parents' devotion to their dream, which had been part of what made them so admirable and good despite how tragically it had ended. But Fai hadn't actually questioned it; only asked if Kurogane ever had, and so the dark-haired man slowly unclenched jaw and fists and took in a careful breath to reply.

"No. Just because it ended too soon doesn't mean it was wrong. They were happy, pursuing their dreams."

"Because it was fate, right? Because it was love at first sight and they'd never had any other options?"

"What? No, it wasn't anything as stupid as that," Kurogane replied, growling in a much more casual confusion now instead of his voice coming out tight and taut and ready to snap. "Where'd you get that from?"

Fai only smiled at first, contributing to the diffusion of tension in the darkness. He'd apparently only been teasing with the fate and first sight comments, and was satisfied with the taller's response.

"So why is it such a bad idea to see where this goes, like they did?" Fai asked, the smile now reaching to his voice though he still sounded sober and serious. "Where it _could_ go? Maybe it'll end too soon. Or...maybe it won't. Maybe you'll buy me a goldfish someday."

A pregnant pause followed, broken only by a faint sputter which soon revved up into proper speech.

"You just _met_ me," Kurogane protested, as soon as he could find his voice. He seemed to only get a clumsy grip on it and the words came out a little strangled. "How do you get from 'good afternoon' to...to..._goldfish_ in half a day?"

"I didn't say I'd fallen madly in love with you already and wanted to get married in the morning," Fai responded, mouth open as if to burst out laughing but only a breathy little thing escaping. "I'm just saying that you seem like someone I _could_ fall madly in love with someday, and that's just too good a thing to pass up."

The hotelier's candidate for possible soulmate just stared down, eyes wide and mind a jumble of confused thoughts from which nothing useful was issuing forth. The main problem lay in the fact that he kept trying to make sense of what the blond was saying, and it was just impossible to reconcile his convictions and these not-so-simple facts. Or rather his logic and Fai's own special brand of it. No, it was not in fact impossible that he and this stranger had the potential to become something. After all, his parents had been strangers the day they'd met too, and look at what had happened there. But the circumstances and people and just everything involved seemed too different and incompatible and complicated.

"I don't _know_ you," Kurogane finally said, sounding plaintively confused where he'd meant to be rational and stern. Seriously, who talked like this? Who _thought_ like this?!

"Of course you don't," came the unexpectedly logical response, accompanied by an even more unexpected smile, affectionate and warm and as delighted as if Kurogane had quite happily agreed to fling himself headlong off a cliff into fathomless love. "We only just met today."

"So..." Kurogane trailed off without knowing where to go next, wondering if - almost hoping - he was having a really, really strange dream, and struggling with the impulse to give the blond a good thwack upside the head in retaliation for the headache he was getting from this conversation.

"So," Fai mimicked, and then elaborated on next steps with, "I want you to get to know me."

Several seconds ticked softly by, during which they just watched each other, Kurogane warily and Fai expectantly. The room was dark, but the light from the hallway was enough to see expressions by, especially at this close range. Amusement and cheerful confidence soon faded away from the pale face turned up toward him, succeeded by something like wistful worry. Fai's well of patience seemed to run dry before Kurogane had gotten his brain untangled, and the silence was broken by a barely audible murmur.

"There's something about me," the blond suggested hesitantly, "that makes you certain already that you could never seriously care for me?"

It was a golden opportunity to shut things down, but like he had with the question of whether or not he was interested, the dark-haired man let the opening slip by without even glancing toward it. He was shaking his head slowly before he'd really thought it through. It was possible, of course, that they were utterly incompatible and doomed to be unable to nurture a healthy romance no matter how much effort was thrown into it. As mentioned already, he didn't really know the man. Fai could prove to be perfect in all ways except that he had a penchant for kidnapping pretty young things and pickling their eyeballs in his basement. His idea of fun potentially involved cans of gasoline and a box of matches. He might try to make Kurogane switch to Miracle Whip.

Could, might, maybe, possibly. But Kurogane hadn't yet discovered anything for certain about the man that he could hold up as incontrovertible proof that they were most definitely incompatible. Even the hotelier's general family history and background were now faded into nothing more than points of curiosity in the face of how he actually conducted himself.

Fai waited a while for something more than just a head-shake, eventually nestling down onto the sheets - and resting his head against Kurogane's forearm again - to wait in a more comfortable attitude. Blue eyes shaded to inky darkness in the barely lit room would drift this way and that now and again, but they always returned to look hopefully up at the other man. Sometimes Kurogane got a faint smile, sometimes a quick quirk of slender eyebrows.

"Um," he said intelligently, and then had to stop and gather up a few of his wits so that he could try to inject some reason into this romantic tangle. "Look, say we start something...you don't even live around here."

"I'll visit," Fai said immediately, chirking up noticeably at this small concession the other man was making, of speaking about a relationship between them as a hypothetical matter instead of an impossible one. "And we can chat and talk on the phone and text and email. We can even exchange handwritten letters if you want."

Kurogane snorted at this last offer. "All right, so we get to know each other, and then what? If we never break it off, then...well, then we're together, and long-distance is going to get stupid after a while." And frustrating. Very, very frustrating.

"Can we discuss crossing that bridge once we're a few miles away from it?" Fai asked with a soft chuckle and a plaintive quirk of his eyebrows. "You haven't even agreed to get in the car, much less go on the road trip with me."

"I'm not getting in a car and going on a road trip that ends at a 'bridge out' sign," Kurogane retorted.

He got a pouty huff and then a playful grin as his reward for going along with the metaphor, but just as he felt wry amusement at how being off-balance was turning out to be an around-the-clock matter when in Fai's company, the hotelier said something that wiped the faint smirk right off of Kurogane's face.

"Well then, maybe the bridge leads to my place," the blond suggested, ducking his head while snuggling contentedly closer. "We've got plenty of room and you can finally see your favorite blue; play in the surf instead of holing up in your cabin-cave."

Kurogane frowned, but his bedmate was finding something interesting about the collar of his t-shirt and the expression was wasted.

"Confident, aren't you?" he asked, a feeling like insult at the implication that his life was so easily set aside making his tone harsh, though he still kept his voice down. Startling the infant awake and making her cry would just put the nail in his mood-coffin, though he couldn't help but continue expressing thoughts not exactly calibrated for a calm and cozy conversation. "You think I'll throw away everything I've worked for so far, everything my parents dreamed of, just to go play house with you?"

He had a place to direct his glare now, as Fai lifted his head to blink at him in surprise. The blond even flinched back a bit while shaking his head.

"I didn't mean..." Fai began, but then stopped, pressing his lips together while looking searchingly up at his suddenly growly-again companion. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper that spoke more of being afraid of Kurogane's reaction than of disturbing the baby.

"Your parents are gone," the blond said softly. "I just thought you might someday be ready to live your own life, not theirs."

There might have been reasonable deductions and wisdom born of experience behind the statement, not just a stranger's skewed perspective, but Kurogane had only just begun skirting around the idea himself that his life had been shaped too much by the loss of his family. He certainly hadn't faced the logical conclusion yet, of re-shaping his life around his own desires. He most definitely wasn't ready to hear it from this walking talking catalyst for upheaval of said life, and so his instinctive reaction was defensive in the extreme; a snarl, a swipe and a warning growl to keep away.

"This _is_ my life," Kurogane said sharply, dark eyes narrowed under a deepening frown, leaning in as he spoke to close the already insignificant distance between them. As soon as the words were out, he pushed off of the mattress and sat up, dislodging Fai none too gently and making the hotelier scramble up as well. Beyond him, the baby stirred at the sudden movement and increase in noise, but Kurogane was past caring about disturbing her just now. His patience and reason got tangled up in offense and a sort of vulnerability, and he was suddenly fed up with the invasions into his personal life; tired of feeling so out of his comfort zone, angry at how this stranger could make his life seem unsatisfactory just by stepping into it, wanting nothing more than to recapture the sense of control he'd once had over his own life even if it had been mere illusion. One hand shot out and grabbed at a slender arm, assisting - or perhaps "hustling" was a better word - the blond off the bed and toward the door.

"Where do you get off telling me I'm not making my own choices? How do you even know what I want out of life? And don't bring my parents into this. I told you one bedtime story and you think you know-"

"No, that's not it. I don't think-," Fai protested, cutting in to the hissed tirade and then cutting himself off as he tripped over the blankets and pillows he'd laid out on the floor earlier. He recovered his voice sooner than his footing, lifting his head up to speak while letting the taller half-hold him up. "I wasn't trying to tell you you were _wrong_. It's just that I, that _we_...Yuui and I-"

"Just stop," Kurogane demanded, interrupting right back as he managed to keep the stumbling man on his feet. They faltered to a halt just before the door, and when Kurogane let go of Fai's arm, the hotelier stumbled back a bit as if he'd been relying on the other man to keep him steady. Or had been trying to get away and was taken by surprise at being suddenly released.

"It's late," Kurogane said with a sigh, anger guttering out as quickly as it had flared up, more spark than heat from the beginning and with nothing solid behind it to keep it fueled. "I'm tired, you're making my head hurt and I don't want to talk anymore. You are _exhausting_, all right? Go away and let me sleep."

Fai looked as if he would have complied, pressing his lips together into a thin, unhappy line while rubbing his arm where he'd been manhandled, but both men stilled and looked back toward the bed as a faint noise caught their attention.

"_fffwrawh,_" the baby complained, and then began crying.

"Of course," Kurogane said dryly, and then frowned as Fai immediately padded over to the infant. "I got it," he mentioned, but the blond did not stop moving until he'd regained his former seat on the bed. He only lingered a moment, kneeling down to scoop the wailing infant up and settle her against his chest. Once that was done, he wriggled off of the mattress and started back toward the door, this time of his own volition.

Fai rather looked as if he would have tried to flee, but Kurogane had unthinkingly blocked the doorway and the blond was apparently not equal to trying to shove, slide or smile his way past the man. His steps slowed as they drew nearer, and when the shopkeeper did not immediately step aside (_already regretting his outburst but prickly pride keeping him from apologizing so soon and something else preventing him from letting the other man escape just yet_) Fai started attempting to soothe the fussing infant where he stood. He bounced lightly on his feet, shifting his weight from side to side and keeping up a rhythmic patting of the baby's back.

She seemed more upset than hungry or uncomfortable - perhaps from being woken up by the sound of less than happy voices - and the soothing soon had her winding down into grumpy little mews and awrs though she did not settle down completely. As Kurogane watched the both of them, the infant began finding ways to entertain herself, gumming one of her own fists or peering into the darkness around her with wobbly lifts of her head. Once the noise level in the room had lowered again, Fai met the even stare being leveled at him and spoke, straightening up slightly as if gearing up to fight or flee.

"I want to say something," he stated quietly. Kurogane cocked an eyebrow at this, finding it to be just as redundant as the query of "can I ask you a question?"

"So say it," the shopkeeper replied, still blocking the doorway and trying to figure out what he himself wanted most to communicate.

"I want to say something without you jumping down my throat and trying to rip my lungs out," Fai clarified, and this time he got a snort and a twist of the mouth which was something in between an amused smile and a regretful wince.

"Just spit it out," sighed the sometimes - _ofttimes_ - unfortunately tetchy man.

This was far from agreement or even a concession, but Fai gamely went on, perhaps taking courage from the idea that he was not likely to suffer a mauling while holding a baby.

"What I was trying to say," the hotelier began, the words coming out evenly but more slowly than his usual rapid-fire chatter, "was that that your parents' dream was beautiful and right and good, but I was thinking it was _their_ dream. For themselves. Not you." Blue eyes were fixed on the taller man, watchful and waiting, and when this opinion did not drawn out any new explosions Fai continued explaining himself.

"Your store - your _home_ - is full of memories and reminders of what good people your mother and father were, and anyone would want to keep something like that alive. But your parents' dream wasn't simply to have that store, was it? It was to have a good, safe place to raise their children into healthy, happy people and let them have their _own_ dreams."

Fai paused again and this time waited, and when Kurogane found that he was expected to reply, he simply nodded. He'd never heard such declarations from his parents per se, but he'd grown up knowing that their wish, distilled down into its simplest form, was for him to be happy. Someday taking on the management of the shop from his father had of course been an option but he hadn't been burdened with any heavy expectations regarding it. His parents had left ambition and passion to time and his natural inclinations and only done their best to instill values and good work ethics into him, so that when he did find a dream to chase he'd be well equipped to run after it.

When nothing further was forthcoming beyond this one nod, Fai nodded himself and then spoke again.

"So...instead of doing what your parents wanted to do," the hotelier murmured, still slightly hesitant, "you could do what your parents would have wanted _you_ to do."

"...and in hindsight, what you want to do may be exactly what you're already doing," Fai added with greater rapidity and an uncomfortable shrug of the shoulder not currently being drooled on. "I got a little stuck on the idea that you wanted to see the ocean."

The soft voice trailed off and made no immediate reappearance, though Fai looked as though there was more he wished to say and perhaps only feared to say too much. There might have been an apology lurking in his chest for speaking a bit too casually and cheerfully on such a sensitive subject, or a long explanation to give on all the varied motivations he had for not letting sleeping bears lie. Thin lips actually parted as if for speech a time or two, but soon fell shut again to curve into a faint smile. It was a little apologetic, a little rueful, and combined with the look in those blue eyes more than just a little hopeful and making Kurogane wonder at himself for wanting to answer it so very badly.

First things first, however. He wanted to clarify a few points before moving on to other matters. There were various similes applicable to what he was doing; wiping dust off a table before setting out a meal, erasing a mistake before rewriting a line, cleaning up before moving out. He was preparing to open the metaphorical car door so that he could go on the road trip he'd received an unexpected invitation for, though he hadn't quite realized it yet.

"I haven't been _holing up in a cave_," he said, and pointedly, but his tone had come down several notches from the affronted anger of before.

"Poor choice of words on my part," Fai conceded immediately.

Kurogane continued, after a brief pause to nod acknowledgement and acceptance.

"My parents wouldn't have been disappointed to know that I kept up the home and business they worked so hard for," he stated, and Fai nodded in turn, all attentiveness and agreement. "I don't regret the choices I've made and I'm not unhappy with my life. It's a good one. I'm serving a purpose."

That fair head nodded again and then Kurogane let the next pause stretch out for a while as he considered all that he'd said and what remained unspoken. The possibilities stretched from apology and agreement to a cold cutting-off of possibilities, but the extremes did not suit his personality or his feelings.

"I do want to see the ocean someday," he finally admitted, the words released unwillingly as if he were confessing to something far more dark and dire. It was a ridiculously simple statement, perfectly innocent and unremarkable, and yet something about the admission felt almost dangerous (_too much potential opening up on the horizon that had always seemed so fixed and focused before_) when made in the blond's presence. Fai's reaction to this confession was to straighten up slightly with an expression of delight, and when the hotelier took a quick breath and opened his mouth, Kurogane quickly cut the other man off with a clarification.

"_See it someday_," the taller said emphatically, "not put my place up for sale tomorrow and move in with you so I can play in the water all year long."

Fai hadn't shut his lips even when interrupted, and at this he laughed softly and grinned up at the dark-haired man, all sparkling eyes and pearly teeth and long arms wrapped snugly around the infant making it look like he was hugging himself in delight.

"I was just going to suggest that we could both get what we want without much trouble," the blond said airily, and if not for the sly little quirk at one corner of his mouth Kurogane might have believed him. "We get to know each other, which is what I want, and you could eventually come visit me and see the ocean, which is what you want." Kurogane didn't respond right away, and Fai's voice took on a sweetly wheedling tone when he spoke again.

"Oh come on, you can agree to at least that much," the blond pressed. "No crazy promises, no 'for sale' signs, no goldfish. Just give me a chance. And yourself a vacation."

Put that way, the proposal sounded so reasonable - either that or he was much more tired than he realized - that Kurogane found himself giving in, though in his own rather ungracious way.

"You're not going to let this go until I say yes, are you?" he asked in resignation.

"Ding ding ding," Fai chimed cheerfully, which the taller interpreted as a signal that he'd guessed correctly.

"Fine," Kurogane sighed, and then eyed Fai with amused exasperation as the other man gave a quiet cheer and danced the baby around in a celebratory twirl.

"Yes, yay, now get out," the dark-haired man growled, stepping forward to reach for the baby. She was still awake but rather heavy-eyed instead of snuffling around alertly for food, and he thought he might be able to get her to go back down for the remainder of their interrupted nap. She was relinquished without any fuss, but Kurogane found a blond satellite hovering in close orbit as he knelt on the bed and carefully set her back down on the sheets. Little arms flapped a bit even though he tried lowering her slowly enough to prevent her from feeling as if she was falling, and so he planted his hand over her stomach and gave her a few firm pats and a little jiggle.

Just as he sat down, the mattress dipped under an additional weight, and Kurogane turned with a short sigh to find Fai once again on the bed.

"Is there room for one and a half Goldilockses on Papa Bear's bed?" the blond asked hopefully.

"No," Kurogane replied firmly. He'd only agreed to get to know the man with an eye toward deciding whether or not they could become something, and in his book - and he hoped the book of every sane person; a demographic that obviously did not include the hotelier - that excluded sleeping together. Even if it was _just_ sleeping together.

He got a pout that seemed to involve at least half the blond's body; that fair head tipped to the side, thin lips pouted out and seemed to draw all the chipper cheer right out of the face they were attached to, slender shoulders slumped down while the hotelier's spine seemed to crumble in disappointment, and pale hands clasped together over one knee as if seeking mutual solace in an embrace.

"Aw? Why?"

"Wh-" The taller choked on his incredulous repetition of the simple question, finding it not quite so simple a thing to explain because it seemed so obvious. He didn't know _why_ two plus two equaled four; it just did and everyone was supposed to know this, and he shouldn't have to explain _why_ a man wouldn't be allowed as a matter of course to bed-share with someone he'd just met that afternoon. After a short sputter Kurogane just blurted out something spawned more from honesty than logic.

"Look, so far we've just _talked_ and I feel like my head's going to explode. You mess with me just by being in the same room," he confessed. Thinking all of a sudden that statements such as these would only bring on fresh arguments or appeals, he made a request of his own. "Just leave me some space until I get my brain wrapped around all this, all right?"

Hope of having succeeded was sustained for a few moments as Fai just stared at him, straightened up from his woeful slouch and his expression smoothed out into something thoughtful instead of dramatic. And then hopeful anticipation turned right into a tangled ball of _what?_ as the blond grinned cheekily.

"You're terrible at this, you know that."

"The hell?" Kurogane asked, half plaintively perplexed, half straight-up annoyed. "Terrible at what?"

"_This._" A slender finger was flicked quickly back and forth between the two men, and then Fai elaborated on his comment. "If you really want to keep me at a distance you shouldn't be telling me how to get to you, oh bear of little-to-no relationship strategy."

"Excuse me for being terrible at something I've got no experience in," he huffed in offense, the words tumbling out before he could do a mental review and edit.

"...what?" The grin had fallen off the blond's face and blue eyes were now fixed on him in surprise instead of amusement. The shopkeeper sighed again, but this time at his malfunctioning mouth filter. He tried to think of something to say that might end the conversation immediately and get the other man out of the room, but ended up without any other options than getting through this new segment of their chat as best he could and then demanding solitude at its conclusion.

"This," Kurogane said with a slightly uncomfortable shrug, defaulting to Fai's expression because he was unable to hit upon a good word for...well, whatever it was that was taking shape between them. He mimicked the little finger-flicking gesture that Fai had made a moment ago as well. "I dated a little when I was younger but by the time I was old enough for anything serious..." His family had died and he'd locked himself into the solitary, shut-in, shutting-out existence that Fai had dropped into like a lit stick of dynamite with a three millimeter fuse. He trailed off, not knowing how to end the sentence and feeling, anyway, that he didn't need to. Those blue eyes were fixed on him and expressing understanding now, not confusion.

There was also a healthy dollop of curiosity, which Fai soon indulged.

"When you say 'dated'," the blond prompted.

"Typical kid stuff I guess," Kurogane replied. "See a movie, hang out at shops, stuff like that." His first romance had in fact been a brief schoolyard fling, impelled more by the clamorous encouragement of mutual friends rather than any real love budding in scrawny little chests. Subsequent entanglements had been a little more adventurous, a little more passionate, but still probably rather pale and pristine compared to most adults' romantic histories. He really didn't want to go into too many details, of which he suddenly felt he had too few of, and when Fai opened his mouth for another question Kurogane cut him off.

"Can we have the rest of this conversation tomorrow?" he asked, in a tone that could have been pleading if it hadn't been delivered in such a deep growl. "I'll get to know you, I'll let you get to know me, but right now you need to let me get some _sleep_."

Just as he finished speaking, little tremors spreading across the mattress caught at his attention, and he cut his eyes over to the infant. Instead of falling asleep once she was left to her own devices, the little girl had become more active and was now kicking like an over-caffeinated frog while gnawing on her fists and peering wide-eyed into the dimness.

"Really?" Kurogane asked her, tone expressing resignation at the sleep-deprived fate he had apparently been assigned.

"Is she hungry again?" Fai asked, crawling up further onto the bed to hover over her. One slender hand came up to give the rotund little tummy a brief tickle, and the infant responded by flapping her arms and gurgling happily.

"No, she just wants to play," Kurogane answered, absently tapping a finger into a drool-damp palm and engaging in a quick game of tug-of-war with the baby. "Want to take her for me? She'll either tucker herself out or want to eat again soon, most likely. You can wake me up if you need help."

"Will do," the blond singsonged easily, carefully scooping up his wriggly, squirmy little charge - with a little oof as he took a foot to the ribs - and then straightening up so that he could begin scooting toward the edge of the mattress.

The key to kicking Fai out of his room seemed to be letting the man hold the baby. The hotelier had attempted to escape with the child once before but Kurogane had been blocking his escape route. Now that the taller was out of the way - and Fai had wrangled a concession from him, not just the infant - the blond departed with not a single fuss or bother, only pausing in the doorway to call out a cheerful goodnight while making the baby wave a dimpled hand.

Kurogane gave the gaped-open door a light shove to close it most of the way and then turned back to the room that was now his alone. He climbed immediately back onto the bed, resolutely ignoring the feeling that the mattress wasn't quite so comfortable as when it had been graced with a little pink and white dollop of humanity. Be that as it might, he was still tired enough that he fell asleep fairly quickly, undisturbed by any new baby care emergencies or ridiculous notions of what constituted fun in the mind of a Fluorite.

On his side, facing away from the bedside table, he had no way of knowing when he awoke what time it was or how long he'd been asleep. He hadn't moved from his original position, which was as usual, and he hadn't dreamt of tiny little wails turning into piercing shrieks, which was unusual. It was possible that he simply hadn't slept long enough to fall into that deep, dark dreaming state where a particular nightmare was always waiting to ensnare and torment him. It was also possible that he had been asleep for hours, and that the warm, cotton-clad mite now tucked along his chest and cradled protectively by his arm had acted as a charm against ill dreams bred by painful memories. Both possibilities made sense, and he didn't waste any time pondering which might be true.

The fact that Fai was curled up on the other side of the mattress, snoozing away, didn't cause much more than an eyebrow twitch. The man was just weird, and Kurogane was getting accustomed to this fact through (over)exposure.

Kurogane took the materialization of two blonds in his bed with reasonable aplomb, considering the circumstances. If nothing else had caught his notice, he would have given a mental shrug and gone back to sleep. He was thrown for a loop, however, when he noticed that he'd apparently been holding Fai's hand while sleeping.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes:** This chapter was supposed to have Kurogane and Fai having breakfast, talking about A, realizing that they neglected to do B, making phone calls to C and D, and then chilling on the couch to watch a movie. I managed to write the breakfast part and then realized I was already well past 5,000 words. Hopefully in the next chapter I'll actually manage to get at least one of the planned plot points worked in. *rolls eyes* This entire story was only supposed to be 1,000 or 2,000 words when I began writing. *rolls eyes so much her optical nerves get knotted up*

In this chapter we find out a little more about Kurogane's family. Bonus feels for you if you can figure out why I chose the time of day that I did for his little sister's birth. And you'll realize that I'm a vicious bitch with a propensity to play fast and loose with language if you can figure out why I chose what I did for her birth weight and length. (Hint: Japanese, not English.)

* * *

After playing some scenarios out in his head - giving Fai's forehead a hard flick had been the most tempting but he hadn't been able to declare to himself with one hundred percent certainty that it was entirely the blond's fault that their hands were entwined - Kurogane wormed his fingers free by careful increments and then tucked them close by the infant for safekeeping. Neither of the blonds stirred, and the shopkeeper sleepily eyed the tiniest occupant of the bed, trying to impartially judge between the wisdom of waking her for a diaper change or the practicality of rejoining the others in peaceful slumber.

His sense of responsibility argued that frequent changings were necessary to keep delicate skin from developing painful rashes, and that it would be polite in him - a guest - to ensure that Fai's very likely expensive linens remained free of damp patches from overloaded diapers. Pragmatism argued back that it wasn't likely that they'd been asleep for all that long and that the if the little girl was sleeping so contentedly she probably wasn't uncomfortably wet. A glance over at Fai's slumbering form also brought to mind again the thought that he ought not to disturb an insomniac's rest, and all Kurogane's mental struggles ended in his drifting off again while wondering at how long the blond's lashes were.

He woke again to the sound of huffy little breaths sucked in between wet lips and moved quickly even while still half-asleep. Before the baby could break into outright cries Kurogane felt for the edge of the bed, rolled quickly out of it and turned around again to face the mattress and its remaining occupants. At that point he actually opened his eyes all the way and experienced a split second of surprise as he blinked at the two blonds in the bed. (_Not his own bed, not his own room, certainly a sweet little baby girl but all rosy cheeks and strawberry blond curls instead of thick black hair and porcelain skin_) He'd been moving on instinct rather than conscious decision, and his brain hadn't quite settled back into the where and when quite yet. Or the who.

A second look was enough to remind him of yesterday's events in a big jumble of emotion and impression and relief-unease that it hadn't been a strange dream after all, and then Kurogane shook it off and bent to scoop up the squirming infant. She let out a warble but Fai, who had no Pavlovian responses to needy babies drilled into him, didn't stir. Kurogane hastily grabbed a diaper and a box of wipes and then left the bedroom before the second blond woke up. The baby was definitely upset about something and despite being cradled and cuddled, kept turning up the volume on her cries.

A bath towel purloined from the linen closet in the hallway and bit of floor in the living room served perfectly well as a changing pad, and the little girl quieted somewhat once she was nice and dry again. Kurogane left her kicking and burbling on the carpet while he tossed the weighty diaper and washed up, then made his way to the kitchen instead of returning immediately to the infant.

She didn't seem to think much of being left alone to amuse herself, and made her displeasure known after a minute or two by awwring loudly. When her voice ratcheted up a couple of notches, Kurogane leaned out of the kitchen area and fixed her with a look.

"Oi."

"_ahm!_" She startled and immediately looked toward him, then flapped her arms happily.

He smiled despite himself and then ducked back into the kitchen to once more check the temperature of the water he had heating on the stove, listening meanwhile to the little vocalizations coming from the living room. He poked his head out from around a corner at intervals to give her a look and a word or two, and this seemed to be enough to keep her from getting too frustrated. When the water seemed almost hot enough, he took another peek into the living room.

"Pipe down, Princess," he told the infant, who was growing increasingly strident in her demands for attention.

"_ah? amya!_" Blue eyes gazed at him intently, and he thought he could read a little consternation in the wrinkle between her nearly invisible little eyebrows.

"Breakfast is happening," he promised, and disappeared again.

Measuring out formula and water and swishing the bottle carefully around in the saucepan took a bit of time, but the steady stream of mews and mwars from around the dividing wall were reassuring. He took a moment to be grateful for the fact that his host didn't have a pack of slobbering dogs obsessed with chewing everything in sight. The baby's lack of mobility was also a relief. Without any highchairs, playpens or activity saucers to hand, getting anything done while the infant was awake would have been a two-person or one-handed job if she'd been of an age to crawl around and get into trouble.

As he put together the bottle and then shook out a few droplets onto his wrist, he tipped his head and curiously listened to the babbles coming from the living room. The baby sounded quite happy now, burbling and cooing contentedly instead of fussing for attention. Figuring that she'd discovered that she had toes or something along those lines, he stayed in the kitchen instead of hurrying out, making sure he'd turned off the stove and tidying up the few things he'd disturbed.

He discovered the reason for the little girl's contentment as soon as he stepped back out into the living room with the bottle. Fai was curled up on the floor next to her - almost _around_ her with his long legs crooked up and one arm splayed out across the carpet - and gently tickling her, slender fingers delicately moving their way across her stomach as if picking out a melody on unseen strings. Judging from the ridiculous bird's nest his hair was, he'd rolled out of bed and immediately gone searching for his missing bedmates. The dark blue flannel pajamas he'd changed into some time last night before invading his guest's bed were still on as well. He seemed half-asleep and probably had heinous morning breath, but the baby didn't seem to mind at all. She kicked and squealed, probably more tickled by the attention than the actual touches, and the smile on Fai's face was hardly less pleased than hers.

It was a charming sight, and though Kurogane wasn't quite ready to admit to the actual ratio of charm for him between the blond and the baby, it was enough to keep him from interrupting right away. Fai noticed him after just a few seconds, however, and announced breakfast to the infant.

"Looks like it's milk time, Little Kitty," he chirped, and sat up after leaning down to give her a noisy kiss on the cheek. He gathered her up and Kurogane stepped over to hand off the bottle, but Fai shook his head.

"Why don't you feed her, and I'll make us breakfast?" the blond offered, and as Kurogane saw absolutely nothing wrong with the suggestion he was soon planted on the floor with a baby and bottle. His host disappeared upstairs for a bit and then came pattering back down - still in pajamas but with hair silky-smooth again - and began puttering about in the kitchen.

"What do you want to eat?" a cheery voice called out.

"Doesn't matter," Kurogane replied somewhat absently, squinting at the infant to make sure she was latched on properly. He didn't particularly want to experience her spit-up abilities first hand, and letting her suck down as much air as formula was one surefire way to make it happen.

"Oh come on," Fai said laughingly, poking his head around a corner. "You must have some sort of preference. Chopped broccoli and mango with a cup of water, French toast and sausages with a mug of warm milk, half a deer and some water from the stream out back...?"

"Something simple and not stupid," Kurogane replied, lifting his head so that he could give Fai a not very patient look. "Eggs and toast or something like that. No milk. Doesn't agree with me."

"Lactose intolerant, got it," Fai noted. "So, eggs...how many and how? I can do scrambled, sunny side up, over easy, over medium, fake-over steam-fried, poached, hard boiled, soft boiled, oh! I can do a fluffy omelette where I whip the whites separately from the yolks so that-"

"Three eggs, scrambled, soy sauce if you have it, salt and pepper if you don't, two slices of white or wheat lightly toasted, plain," Kurogane interrupted, adding in enough details to hopefully shut the overanxious chef up. Politely refusing to make too many nit-picky demands of his host was obviously not the most efficient route here; Fai would end up grilling him on preferences and giving him options until breakfast became lunch.

"Black coffee?"

"Yes."

Fai disappeared back into the kitchen and Kurogane heaved a sigh of relief. He glanced down at the baby in the crook of his arm to find her still busily working away at her bottle, unperturbed by the insanity of one of her nannies. Silence settled around the two in the living room, a comfortable type made up of harmonious little noises weaving together to make something soothing; quiet clatter from the kitchen, the steady fizz of bubbles rising through the formula and muffled clicks as the baby drank, and behind it all, the storm. Thick walls and well-insulated windows dampened the sound of the wind lashing at the building so that it lost almost all its power to awe and merely became a pleasant counterpoint to the comfort of the cabin. Something to enhance the pleasant warmth, not take anything away from it.

A glance toward one of the windows showed him nothing but darkness and pale flurries catching the light from within, but lack of sunlight wasn't much of an indicator of time when one was in the middle of a blizzard so Kurogane cast about for a clock. From where he was sitting, he couldn't get a good line of sight to the one in a nearby bookshelf. It occurred to him to get up and go look, but another moment of consideration had him deciding to stay put. They had nowhere to be until the storm blew over, and as for sleeping and waking, they were on the baby's timetable, not their own. He had to actually talk himself into it, but soon enough Kurogane made a conscious decision to let his usually rigid schedule slide while he was on this odd "vacation".

The low burble of formula being guzzled suddenly cut off, replaced by hollow smacks, and the shopkeeper quickly looked back down at his armful. He eased the nipple away and after a brief fuss the baby seemed to accept that breakfast was over. Kurogane repositioned the infant against his chest, cradling her carefully as he stood up. After a quick side trip to the linen closet for a hand towel to throw over his shoulder in lieu of an actual burp cloth, he made his way to the kitchen where he was greeted with a bright smile.

The blond looked a bit more awake now - and good thing, too, since he was working over a hot stove - though not back up to what Kurogane thought was his usual level of energy, and the shopkeeper nodded back as he walked to the sink. Once there, he leaned back a bit to make sure the little girl stayed plastered against him as he dropped the hand he had on her back so that he could unscrew the bottle. Formula didn't sour as quickly as milk, but it certainly didn't improve with time, and he wanted to at least rinse the thing out before it got crusty.

"Here, let me," Fai said, hurrying over to assist. He looked worried rather than anxious to please, and his eyes were on the baby.

"I've got her," Kurogane insisted, though at the moment she simply had her diapered rear perched on his forearm, with little more than gravity and inertia keeping her slumped against his torso. He had confidence in his reflexes, but Fai apparently did not. The blond put a steadying hand on the baby and grabbed the bottle with his other hand, and refused to move until Kurogane was cradling the infant to his satisfaction once more.

Kurogane cuddled her close and began burping her in a somewhat mechanical manner while staring at Fai's chest.

"...why are you wearing a Hello Kitty apron?"

He got a little fashion-show flourish and a resurgence of smiles.

"Isn't it cute?" Fai asked, and against all odds Kurogane found himself agreeing, at least within the privacy of his own thoughts. The simple white apron with the pink candy-striped strings and cartoon cat with a glittery bow on its head suited the blond perfectly for some godawful reason. It was, in fact, cute on him and made Kurogane want to smack his head against the nearest cabinet for thinking so.

The baby saved Kurogane from having to answer directly by letting out a sharp _braaap_ over his shoulder.

"I'm with her," he said and turned away, shaking his head while meandering about the island and continuing to pat the infant on the back, just in case there were more air bubbles lurking in her stomach. Thankfully the toaster popped just then, drawing Fai's attention away, and Kurogane was left in peace to contemplate the degeneration of his brain functions.

His statement of last night was proving out nicely; Fai messed with him just by being in the same room.

Or to restate the matter in a different way, he was growing increasingly attached and attracted to the other man and that realization was messing with him.

He prowled back and forth across the hardwood floor, keeping the island between him and the blond as if the countertop could provide some sort of protection against the other man's influence. Fai flitted around from cabinet to stove to refrigerator to sink, hardly ever standing still except when messing about with the pans on the range. Even then he wasn't really still; toes tapped a faint beat and slender fingers played idly with apron strings or twirled a wooden spatula.

Fai's face was hardly less alive. Kurogane kept catching glimpses and it shifted like a billboard constantly updating itself to reflect the fleeting thought, concern or contentment of the moment. The eggs got a contemplative pursing of the lips, a spice rack was frowned at, and a dive into the refrigerator resulted in a triumphant reemergence crowned by a bright smile. He looked happy, doing something as simple as puttering around in the kitchen, and Kurogane found that sight cute as well but in a much less headache-inducing way.

He could much better deal with the blond finding contentment in being an attentive host than in the man's penchant for sparkly pink things generally marketed to children.

Serving dishes and bowls were laid out on the island and as toast, eggs and bacon were piled upon them, Kurogane and the baby began coming in for a share of those looks and expressions. The dark-haired man expected some teasing when he was caught staring at the other man, but surprisingly Fai remained silent as he continued cooking, only parting his lips when a smile stretched especially wide.

Finding breakfast nearing completion after a few more minutes, Kurogane shifted the baby so that he could carry her one-armed and began moving plates from the counter to the table. Instead of any protests from his host that guests needn't bother themselves with setting the table, he only got a warm smile that he would have sworn he could feel lingering on his neck as he turned away. Nothing was said even when he starting poking around, trying to remember where he'd seen cutlery the day before; Fai simply watched him for a second and then pointed a finger at the proper drawer.

He nodded his thanks and got beamed at, and then they crossed paths as he headed back to the table with forks and Fai moved toward the sink to rinse off a frying pan. The two men didn't even come close to colliding, but Fai still laid his free hand against Kurogane's arm to keep the baby a safe distance from the hot pan, and his fingers trailed lightly over a muscular forearm as he passed. It didn't quite make a shiver run down Kurogane's spine, but his skin prickled a bit and he turned around after placing the forks on the table, breaking the un-looked for atmosphere with an abrupt question.

"You have a rule about not talking while cooking or what?"

"Hm? Oh, no," Fai answered, shaking his head and looking first surprised, then amused. "I just wanted to up my chances of getting you to smile at me again. I'm working on a theory that there's a direct correlation between how much I talk and how growly you get."

"What's this 'again' crap?" Kurogane asked, perplexed frown deepening as Fai laughed.

"Experiment is a success. I speak, he growls."

"_No,_ you don't make sense and I get annoyed," Kurogane corrected. A pause followed in which he glowered and Fai gave him a crooked smile, head tilted thoughtfully as he pondered a response.

"Well," the blond finally said, "I was cooking quietly and when I turned around, you were smiling at me, so I kept it up, hoping I'd catch you at it again."

"I was not," Kurogane denied flatly, as if accused of stealing teaspoons.

"I think I almost had you at the silverware drawer."

"You wish."

"The moment has obviously passed, however," Fai noted with an overdone sigh, picking up platters of bread and bacon.

Unable to think of a good retort, Kurogane stalked around the island - taking the long way around to avoid running into (_or brushing up against_) the other man - and picked up the bowl of scrambled eggs. There was a bad moment when he didn't notice that the container had caught the baby's attention and barely got it out of her way before she managed to stick a fist into a fluffy pile of steaming hot egg, but otherwise breakfast got underway without any mishaps.

Kurogane sat somewhat sideways in his chair, settled the infant on one thigh and used his left arm like a seatbelt, and then began tucking into the food Fai had piled onto his plate. One good thing about eggs and toast - besides the simple, wholesome taste - was that it could easily be eaten with one hand. A little ramekin of soy sauce perched on his plate was a pleasant surprise, and after a few minutes of chewing, his mood was so far restored that he remembered his manners and paused to praise the chef.

"This is good," he said simply. "Thanks. For dinner last night, too." The smile he got was only to be expected, but the blink of surprise that preceded it pricked his conscience a bit. Despite it not exactly being by his own request, he _was_ the hotelier's guest at the moment, taking up space and eating the man's food. He might be off-setting some of this by providing baby care services, but he supposed he hadn't exactly been all that gracious thus far.

"Do you want me to take a few turns in the kitchen?" Kurogane offered.

"If you want to," Fai replied, but then shook his head. "You don't have to though. I like cooking, and besides, I'm not sure I want a grumpy bear loose in my kitchen."

"I can cook," the dark-haired man said a bit defensively. "What do you think I do at home; eat out of cans all the time? I'm no gourmet chef, but I can make balanced meals...unlike what's in front of you. _Are you eating a plate full of bacon for breakfast?_"

This last sentence came tumbling out in a rush with hardly a pause between it and the preceding one as Kurogane happened to glance down at Fai's plate to see nothing but strips of crisp-fried pork belly piled on top of each other.

"Breakfast of champions," the blond declared. "I love bacon."

"Breakfast of heart attack victims," Kurogane countered, looking a bit aghast. "How the hell are you so scrawny?"

"Food of the gods," Fai continued blithely, holding up a slice and gazing at it adoringly. "Everything is better with bacon. Including bacon." A thoughtful pout followed, and then he made a concession.

"Okay well maybe not sex. Foodplay isn't my thing."

Kurogane inhaled crumbs and had to drop his toast so that he could cover his mouth and avoid sputtering breadcrumbs all over the table. A few fragments got pretty well stuck in the back of his throat and he bent over the table while trying to clear them out. Eyes screwed shut during coughing fits, he felt more than saw Fai scramble out of his chair and come scurrying over to take the baby from him. Not that Kurogane would have dropped her, but he appreciated not having to worry about her and oxygen at the same time.

A couple more racking coughs, a deep breath and a long draught of coffee later, he felt recovered enough to sit up and glare. Fai was standing by his chair, cuddling the baby and looking down at him with a faint smile that kept twitching at the corners.

"Of course if it's _your_ thing I'm willing to give it another try."

"Is this typical breakfast conversation for you?" Kurogane demanded, feeling heat flare across his face and trying to convince himself that it was just a belated flush from nearly choking to death. It was years since he'd blushed and somewhere along the way he'd come to the conclusion that he'd outgrown that tendency along with pimples and growing pains. Fai now proved that it was no such thing; he'd only avoided letting anyone close enough to tease him.

"You promised we could get to know each other, remember? And I already know your favorite color." Fai sat down, keeping the infant with him. While his attention was wrapped up in figuring out how best to balance the squirmy little bundle on his lap, Kurogane turned back to his breakfast, shaking his head briefly over a man who found nothing wrong in going from "what's your favorite color" to "do you want to nibble bacon-bits off my chest".

While Kurogane was busy wiping (_ferociously scrubbing_) his mind clean of certain mental images, Fai chirped up again.

"So, back to conversations we didn't finish...tell me more about your love life? Or your parents' romance?"

Kurogane found the latter suggestion less daunting a challenge to tackle first thing in the morning, with breakfast barely in his stomach.

"I'll tell you more about my parents first," he replied with a faint grimace. "I'll work my way up to the other stuff."

"Sure," Fai agreed, and then added thoughtfully, "I guess one flows into the other, actually. The example you grew up with probably influenced your own way of approaching romantic relationships."

This only drew another twist of the mouth from Kurogane, but he hid it behind a forkful of food. He'd had the best of examples before him during his childhood but hadn't exactly applied all that theory in practice. His mouthful of egg did not go down easily, as if laced with the pride he would have to swallow if he followed through with his promise to tell Fai about his (un)romantic history. (_And what sort of example and environment created a man like Fai, who brought home strangers like they were abandoned pets and crawled into their heart-arms-personal space with childish games and not-childlike-at-all smiles?_)

Once having agreed to continue his stories, Kurogane found that the choice of when exactly to resume his storytelling was being left to him. Fai did not press him to begin then and there, instead enthusiastically nibbling away at his cholesterol-laden breakfast in between bursts of babble directed at the baby and blessedly simple questions directed at Kurogane. Most were answerable with a simple yes or no; Fai wanted to know if he wanted more of anything (no) or a refill of coffee (yes), asked if the baby looked like she wanted more food or freshening up (not yet), and wondered if the storm was letting up at all (look out a window, idiot).

"What woke you up, by the way? I didn't hear an alarm go off."

"What?" Kurogane asked, and then recollected. "Princess over there needed a diaper change."

"Mm," Fai hummed into his mug. He looked ridiculous, craning his neck as far as possible away from the baby on his lap and holding the coffee so far away from him that he had to purse his lips just to make contact with the rim. His desire to keep the infant from being accidentally scalded with the last of his milk coffee had crossed the borders of paranoia and set up camp a good mile into the territory. The mug was set down five times the baby's actual reach away from her and then blue eyes were watching him speculatively.

"I thought maybe you'd had another nightmare. We turned in late last night, but you were up pretty early."

"_She_ woke up early," Kurogane corrected. "And I don't sleep much anyway."

But that was because of nightmares, not circadian rhythms.

"No," he added after a beat, pushing his empty plate away so that he could rest his arm comfortably across the placemat. "No bad dreams."

"I got in a pretty good nap myself," the self-proclaimed situational insomniac said with a thoughtful pout. "Maybe our little kitty here is covered in happy sleep dust?" Kurogane attempted to translate this into plainer English.

"So...what, having her close is acting like a..."

"Security blanket?" Fai suggested.

"I was trying to think of something less five year old, but yeah sure."

"Could be." Fai nodded and Kurogane gave a thoughtful grunt. It sounded silly but held a good bit of water as a theory. His thoughts took a sudden turn and he found himself wondering what it would be like to go back to his narrow bed, alone, after the storm was over.

"So, my parents," Kurogane abruptly began, not wanting to ride that particular train of thought all the way to the next station. Retelling more of the stories he'd learned from his father took some time, and the remains of breakfast were grown cold by the time he'd recapped all the anniversaries and "firsts" that took place in the early years of his parents' marriage. As the table was cleared, he complained about being the only young man in the United States who had to deal with the knowledge that every single room in his childhood home had been christened by his parents within the first week of their moving in. Fai agreed that no man should have to know such a thing, but laughed even as he shook his head sympathetically.

"Oh wait, oh my God, so even your bedroom?" Fai asked in mock horror, pausing with his hands buried in a sink full of suds.

"Well, it was my mother's sewing room back then," Kurogane hedged, standing nearby with the infant once more in his arms. She was still awake but stayed quietly slumped against his chest, seemingly lulled by his voice and the way he was slowly patting her back. "The nursery was a smaller room right next to the master bedroom."

"But even that room..."

"Yeah. And the bathroom. And the hallway. And the landing. Seriously, there was something wrong with my father. Not because of the...I mean that was fine; they were married. But who tells their kid something like that?"

Fai was bent over the sink now, supporting himself with his forearms braced on the edge of the counter, long fingers dripping soapy water as he laughed.

"Oh my God, I'm surprised you don't have more siblings-" Fai's mouth suddenly snapped shut and stayed shut, even though it was obvious from the lilt of his voice that the sentence had originally been longer as it formed in his head. He wasn't laughing anymore, just staring at the dirty dishes hiding among the bubbles with his lips pressed into a thin slash. His mouth was still quirked up at the corners but those were only leftovers and fading fast.

Kurogane waited until blue eyes were flickering over to him and then spoke before the other man could launch into an awkward apology or excuse.

"They weren't planning for ten kids or anything," he said quietly. "Probably three, four at the most. But having me took a toll on her health and they decided to stop at two."

"With how growly a little cub you turned out to be I'm surprised they didn't decide to stop at one," Fai quipped, slowly coming out of stasis and picking up a dirty plate. His tone was teasing but only lightly so, and Kurogane just snorted.

"What was her name?" Fai asked, voice so soft it was almost lost in the noise he was making in the sink.

Kurogane looked away before answering, too many memories crowding up for him to want to meet the other man's gaze just then. The hand he had been lightly patting the baby with stilled a moment and then took up a soft, slow stroking of the curve of her spine. She remained quiescent against him, and he absently wondered if she'd fallen asleep. "We named her Tomoyo, because we wanted her to go on adventures, see the world, get to know it."

Fai frowned up at him in puzzlement. "Tomoyo means explorer?" he guessed.

"No, it's not like an English name where the whole word means something," Kurogane explained. "The meaning depends on what characters you use to write it. We used 'knowledge' and 'world' for her name. Could've read it as Chise too, but 'tomo' sounds like 'friend' and I liked that connotation."

"_You_ named her," Fai said in realization. "How old were you when she was born?"

"Seventeen."

"That's quite an age gap," came the comment, after another quiet moment in which the sharp clatter and clink of cutlery and china were suspended. "I guess that explains how she escaped being named Booboo though," Fai added, his tone lightening. Kurogane didn't follow suit to turn the topic, however.

"Couple of bouts of bronchitis after I was born. Took her a few years to get over that. Then three miscarriages. A couple more bad winters where a cold turned into something nastier. Time sort of just...piled up."

Fai made a soft sort of humming noise, acknowledging what had been said but perhaps not finding any words with which to reply. He said something while rinsing the dishes but Kurogane missed it amidst the hiss of the faucet and his own wandering attention. Fai didn't repeat himself, only glanced up and then away again, leaving the taller to his thoughts.

Tomoyo Kurogane. Born September 3rd at the ungodly hour of 2:32am, weighing in at six pounds, four ounces and measuring exactly nineteen inches long. After being cleaned up and bundled in a blanket she'd been given to Kurogane to hold, and he'd been so enchanted with her that he hadn't had any attention to spare for anyone else in the room. Hadn't noticed how the activity in the room hadn't died down for a long time, didn't realize how much time had passed before his father had actually come over to take a turn at holding his daughter, looked at but didn't really _see_ the tight, tired smile the man wore that hid worry away in its creases.

"You asked me yesterday if I'd lost my wife and child in the accident," Kurogane said, his tone quiet and calm and his emotions anything but. "She was my baby sister but I was the first to hold her, the one to name her." Next to him, Fai had gone still and was staring up at him, a dish towel forgotten in his hands, but Kurogane didn't turn his head to meet the other man's eyes. Instead he stared at nothing, sight turned inward to old memories, and held the tiny stranger in his arms just a little closer.

"My mother was almost bedridden after the delivery and my father was so wrapped up in her that I was the one who raised Tomoyo for the most part. We all loved her but I was the one who fed her, kept her clean, made sure she was safe and warm." His voice rasped at the end and he gritted his teeth, trying to fight down the ache in his chest and keep it from expanding so much that it made it harder to breathe.

"She _was_ mine," he said, wondering why he was telling Fai all this, not even sure what he was trying to really say now. "She was mine," he repeated.


End file.
